


look at you kids and your vintage music

by zialless



Series: not ready to make nice [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Small Town, City Boy!Zayn, Country & Western, Country Music, Country!Niall, Domestic Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, No Smut, Sibling Love, South Carolina, There's dogs cats and chickens!, anyway im talking about frank zhang!, i do this thing where i take my favourite characters from other stories and put them in mine!, like a crossover thing but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-22 04:49:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 51,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15574146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zialless/pseuds/zialless
Summary: Zayn has lived in Brooklyn all his life, enjoying every second of it until he hears three clicks from his step-dad's shiny, polished heels and all of the sudden, he's in Kansas or Alabama or Tennessee. Actually, from the looks of it, he's in Beaufort, South Carolina. It's really all the same to him.At the Habersham Harvest Festival, he meets the town's favourite local singer, Niall Horan - a 17 year old boy with an accent thicker than Bob Dylan's (whoeverthatis). He's got one hell of a voice, soul, and an irritating personality. And what do you know? He owns chickens too. Just like everybody else here in the South.





	look at you kids and your vintage music

**Author's Note:**

> omggggggggggg what's poppinggggggggg!
> 
> here i am, presenting you probably the only fic about country niall. or should i say yeehaw horan, for the 1d collab! i've been working on this for a whiiiiiiiiiiile now. the inspiration sprung from simply niall wearing cowboy hats during his flicker sessions and the album flicker itself.
> 
> thanks to those who've been helping me out with this project! some name's are a bit blurry due to the fact that i got left hanging by people who said they were gna help me but we ain't gna dwell on that chief! 
> 
> a name i do rmr is Mia (nevergooutofstiles on tumblr)! freal, thank you so fking much for collabing with me last minute. you really put my fic into reality with your photosets. every time i look at them i get so giddy bc this fic means a lot to me and it's really nice to see someone else's perspective of it. also, thank you for letting me work with u on the photoset!
> 
> Nicki (louisekink)! we spoke sort of last minute but im still thanking you for teaching me southern culture! u said i got most of it down already but u still really helped me out with some of the slang/setting bc i did end up changing some things after we spoke! trying to get every detail of the settings/people/culture/etc. is really important to me and u helped me out a lot!
> 
> and thank you esp to Katelyn, Yuzu, and di for getting the collaboration put together! freal, you guys helped me out with a lot of shit and i couldn't have done it without yall pulling the strings.
> 
> I sort of had a beta but i also didn't so pardon all my mistakes, esp with grammar. english is basically both my 1st and 2nd language (dont ask lol) but i haven't had a refresher on my writing and grammar since high school. i took one english course in college but thts bc it's a pre-req lol.
> 
> anyway, please leave comments and kudos! not only to me (but yes me cause ure here) but to all the other stories you've all been reading from the 1d collab. it helps a lot with our future projects and boosts our confidence by like 95345934%.
> 
> enjoy!

The weather calls for 72 degrees Fahrenheit, overcast upon this old city called Beaufort. According to the brochures,  _Beaufort is located on_ _Port Royal Island, in the heart of the Sea Islands and South Carolina Lowcountry_.  _Population of the city: 3,000._  It's certainly less than Brooklyn which Zayn can never accept so easily compared to Yaser. 

There are trees standing tall around him—mostly willow trees; branches hanging and swaying with the winds. There are wetlands not even five minutes away, spread across for miles, crawling with alligators and snakes that a neighbour will eventually find in their pool or toilet. Soon, maybe even his family will; right in their backyard was the marsh. Beyond the water, it's hard to tell how far it goes.

There's a feeling in the air that welcomes him, not long before he's choking on his own breath. It makes him feel uneasy and unsure, and he doesn't like not knowing what's to come. It's this culture all around him that he's never come across until now—this strong Southern influence that never really affected New York. And he knows they're two very different places incomparable to one another. But he just can't stop the comparisons. It's hot, it's old, it's what he and his friends used to laugh at and mock—and it's now where he lives. It's now a reality.

The city is known for a few things. The area is home to approximately 25% of the marshlands on the entire East coast of the U.S. That means there is a lot of shrimp-catching going on. In addition, if you're a movie junkie, you would know that Beaufort is where  _Forrest Gump_  was filmed, along with  _The Prince of Tides_  and  _The Big Chill_. Zayn isn't big on movie trivia. These fun facts only came by him due to heavily done research on the internet. Another fun fact, the city’s name is actually pronounced like 'Byoo-fert'—not 'Boh-fert'. 

He's not thrilled at all. In fact, he's below any type of emotion close to happiness. Not even his round, grey and white striped cat, Data could lift his spirits. Sitting on his porch stairs with Data on his lap, he's watching his boxes from New York getting unloaded from the truck and carried off into his house. Not to mention this heat. What do these Southerners say?  _I'm sweatin' like a hooker in church_. That's exactly him right now—feeling his back, his neck, his chest, even the surface of his face—every part of him is sweating.

His new house is massive and it's the ultimate epitome of country to him. Not just country; he has images in his head specific to the word. A woman wearing a long white dress, holding cookies at the door, a smile on her face that emitted hospitality was all in his head. This whole city has a boner for these white columns and porches that wrap around the house. Zayn recalls that they're called Antebellum houses. Frankly, it's too much. 

And the thing they call a city is just 15 minutes away by driving. His school would just be 5 mins away from their house. Good ol' Battery Creek. Can't get anymore original. Even Data can't comprehend restaurants and shops closing at 6pm when she stays out past 9pm.

She gets off his lap, leaving behind fur on his black Levi jeans. As always, he tries to wipe most of it, whatever follows through the wind. The rest that stay get picked up by a lint roller. And if he's lazy, oh well.

"Zayn, can you help with the boxes?" Yaser asks as he hauls in a box labeled 'Zayn’s comics/books.’

"No," Zayn grumbles.

"It's not that bad. Stop giving me this attitude. You promised you would change this behaviour of yours," Yaser explains as if he gets what Zayn's unhappy about.

They've had this conversation over and over—from when the news was dropped on him to the moment he landed in this state. And he's too stubborn to give it to his step-dad, especially when Zayn disagrees. These positive statements don't balance out the fact that Zayn had no say or choice in a move he never wanted. 

He rolls his eyes before he goes down his porch steps where there’s a box immediately on his left. “It’s a long process. If you could be patient and wait on it.” He tells Yaser as he walks inside his house with the box in his arms.

"Listen, there's lots of room so you can still work on your photography." Sure. That fixes everything. He had that back in New York—he had lots of things back there. Now, he’s back to the beginning. 

"That's not what I mean." Zayn grimaces as he leans against the wall, looking left and right. "This place is dead. There's nothing exciting about this town besides the spurring news of alligators being found in pools. You couldn't have at least been placed in New Jersey at that joint base with the air force? I know about that place.”

"I have no control on where I get placed. Wherever they need people, that's where they go. You know that. It's only three years.”

"That’s three years of a pain in my ass. South Carolina though?" Zayn hisses the name as he rolls his eyes. “Of course they need people here. Who in their right mind wants to live here?”

"If all you're going to do is complain, I don’t want to have this conversation with you." Yaser shakes his head disappointingly. "At least help Elisa unpack. She's upstairs."

"I'll complain to Elisa." Zayn clicks his tongue and winks as he heads upstairs.

Thankfully, it's already furnished from the kitchen to the living room. That's all that really matters. They've got their own mattresses and bed frames to set up. In the meantime, Zayn drops by Elisa's supposed room. He finds her putting her clothes inside drawers, organizing them by what type of clothes they are.

"You don't need my help, do you?" Zayn asks as she fixes the drawer where her jeans and other types of trousers go.

"No, but I just need your opinion." 

"On what?"

"What should I wear tonight." She unfolds two outfits from her bag, both wrinkled. 

"What's tonight? We just got here.” Zayn watches his sister layout her dresses over her bed. One was a brown suede overall dress with a black turtleneck while the other one was a tan wool knit dress.

"Habersham Harvest Festival. There's going to be games, music, ride, food, and fireworks,” she says with a smile on her face. She raises her eyebrow and glances at her dresses before looking back at Zayn.

"I like this one." He points to the suede overall dress before blinking up at her with a grimace on his face. "And... How do you know all of this?" 

"It's a big event here. Probably the most popular event besides the Shrimp festival."

Zayn can feel a yawn coming. "Okay. And you're going?" 

She nods joyfully. "We're going." 

Zayn may speak Italian, Spanish, and Urdu, and even a little basic French, but did he hear right?  _Qui? We?_ He scoffs at Elisa as he rolls over her bed, accidentally pressing down on her dresses. "I didn't know you were making my plans for tonight."

Huffing, she pulls her clothes from under Zayn's bum. "We're stuck here for three years. Let's try to make the best of it."

"We, again? As soon as I graduate, I'm going back to New York. But you're taking this better than I am." The corner of Zayn's mouth tugs off to the side.

That's because Elisa likes new places and she likes a lot of things Zayn doesn't. 

She looks far more approachable compared to him. She's got a softer face than he does; he's always got his eyebrows furrowed in while she's got her chestnut coloured curly hair, long lashes, and brown eyes to swoon anyone who looks her way. She just radiates goodness, smells warm and sweet like cinnamon and brown sugar. 

Visually, since Elisa looks darker in complexion due to the fact that she’s part Pakistani from Yaser’s side and African-Turkish on her mom’s, they would never guess half Pakistani from his deadbeat dad’s side and half Italian from his mom’s side that Zayn would be a part of the family. For one, she's his step-sister so obviously not. Yaser isn't even his real dad. By no means is he blood related to anyone in this house. However, he's learned from a long time ago that blood doesn't make you family.

He leaves her alone for the time being and heads to his room. His whistling echoes as he counts the boxes left in his room. He didn't bring much. Only the sentimental stuff like photos and books. He pulls out his portfolio for university from one of his boxes and sits on another box, flipping through his plastic-protected photos. 

Looking through his photographs calms him down. There are a variety, from pictures of his friends to New York gems that no one knows about if they never look in the darkest corners of the city. He's afraid it's not the same now. Just looking through the first five, he's frowning at the sight of his friends. He hates all of this so much.

* * *

For the festival, Elisa convinced Zayn to wear an olive green long sleeve shirt he never thought he owned before until now. To fit the whole autumn, southern look, Elisa pushed for him to wear his jean jacket with the wool collar. Maybe in New York, yeah. Here—no. It's really too hot for a jacket right now. Even if he wants to wear one.

Beside her, he felt different. If this was back home in New York, he'd feel his usual same—indifferent walking with Elisa. He's not sure if its the endless number of eyes looking at them as they made their way through the festival. 

It's a weekend long festival around Bay Street. There were booths on the boardwalk along the sea selling small trinkets—from wooden carvings to magic crystal rocks. Other booths were selling custom made t-shirts and T.V. commercial products. He didn't care for most of these things. If there's one thing festivals have that interests him, it's the gross food like deep fried ice cream over a cinnamon-sugar funnel cake. It may not sound gross, but the amount of oil would disgust anyone back home.

There were even games for them to play. In half an hour, there will be an apple bobbing contest. Then, in an hour, it’ll follow up with a pie eating contest. Flavours listed on the board were: blueberry, apple, cherry, raspberry. Zayn wasn’t having fun at the moment, but this whole fair had everything fun you could think of. There were even Busker performances like sword swallowing, juggling torches, and one arm hand-stands on stacks of chairs. Nonetheless with everything going on around, there was only one thing Zayn can focus on.

"Why are you making a face?" Elisa asks him. Zayn didn't realize that he was until he felt the knit between his eyebrows.

"What's up with the country music?" Zayn can hear it from the small stage just a few minutes away. He can see it from where he's standing. There’s even a whole dancefloor in front of it with a string of lights hanging around the floor.

"Serious answer? We're in South Carolina." 

"They can't play NWA?" 

"You think these families and their kids wanna hear 'fuck the police’?'" Saying that out loud got a few glares from old women clutching their purses. Until they leave or turn around, Zayn will continuously glare at them. 

"Maybe.” Zayn shrugs as he gives a generous cut eye at the ladies. “’Cause fuck the police, am I right?”

"I think you need some food." Said Elisa, walking off to the direction of the food trucks.

"They probably have deep fried alligator and labeled it chicken."

"Zayn! You're so absurd." Elisa makes a choking gesture at him with both her hands. "Ease up."

"Listen, if Ryan was here... He'd join in!" He laughs hard enough with his eyes squinting.

"You both are losers that's why."

Ryan Potter is probably his most favourite person second to Elisa, and he's got about 5 names on there: Elisa, Ryan his mom, Data, and himself—not in order. Sometimes he's first. Sometimes it's his mom or even Data. Ryan is never first. He's only on that list because he's not scared of saying what's on his mind. However, that's also the worst thing about him.

Zayn buys an 18-inch corn dog and Mexican corn. He makes Elisa hold the corn dog because holding long objects at the same time with each going in his mouth isn't an image he wants to be putting out there. 

The food distracted him hard enough he didn't realize how close he and Elisa were to the stage until he heard the country accent through the mic singing an old classic that used to always be on the radio. He groans at the sound, because that  _accent_  is just…

"— _You won't find nobody else like me!_ " Elisa exclaims.

"Oh my fucking goodness." Zayn snorts as he laughs at Elisa.

"He's really good." Elisa smiles as her head nods to the song.

She must be talking about the singer on stage. Zayn's not sure. He can hear the accent from him—it’s awful like Tim fucking McGraw or Blake Shelton. Strapped on him is an acoustic guitar. Guitar-playing country-brunet boy—who knew South Carolina had any of that? Oh yeah— _everybody_. His voice is soft with a certain level of rasp that peaks at certain notes. There's a shy soul somewhere in there, ready to break out if he decides to sing something heavier.

He looks like he's in high school, but there's just something really mature about him. It's not his short-length dishevelled brown hair and barely stubbled chin. It might just be the red flush over his cheeks and his nose, and the detailing lines of his eyes and cheeks. They're noticeable from where he's standing. He's wearing a faded black band shirt and dark blue jeans. And a cowboy hat. Ugh.

"Let's dance too, Zayn!" Elisa grabs his hand and pulls him towards the floor where all the old people are dancing or trying to stretch, either one.

"Wait—" Zayn ends in a breath, forced to follow behind Elisa. Thank god, the song was finishing up; Elisa slowed down and Zayn was able to get his hand back.

"How is everyone this evenin’?" The singer asks with a wide smile across his face. Obviously, the crowd cheers him on and Zayn didn't think it was possible for him to smile any harder. 

"For those who're here for the festival, welcome to Beaufort. It's a home like no other." He laughs quietly as he tries to catch his breath. "It's pretty biased of me since I've been here all my life, but you're here already, so technically I'm not lyin'. For whatever reason that you're in Beaufort, we're glad to have y'all."

"He's cool." Elisa blurts out like she’s in a trance.

"He just said, 'welcome to Beaufort' and he's cool?" Zayn scoffs.

"We are The Carolina Wren. Like the bird. We're a really cool group, I promise. Our lead guitarist Frank here has been playing guitar for 12 years which means he's been playing since he was 5." Frank is to his right, switching from an acoustic guitar to an electric guitar. He's wearing a blue plaid with cream and brown patterns. 

He goes on about the band. He introduces Sam the bassist who can play six other instruments, the drummer Gary who started drumming before he can talk, and the keyboardist Travis who can play Canon in D with his eyes closed. He added little fun facts for each of them that pleased the crowd—to make it more interesting.

"And I'm Niall." He finally gets to himself. "I decided to pursue singing when my lil' sister told me to shut up while I was singing in the shower and I knew music was right for me." 

Elisa suddenly starts laughing, along with the audience. Niall surprisingly even got Zayn to laugh. Or in his way, puff with a grin on his face.

"You can probably tell." He continues to joke; he even gestures at his throat. Proud of his jokes, he looks at the faces around him. And in particular, he lands a gaze at Elisa and Zayn for a suspiciously longer time. Zayn can never hold eye contact with someone—it's a social thing Elisa has been trying to break. He can look at Elisa easily; not strangers he's looked at before. It's like they know Zayn's been staring.

"We're going to go a little fast in this next song. It's a favourite of mine actually. It's by The Eagles." He smiles again. "I'm just going to start singing now. I think that's what y'all want anyway, right?"

No, Zayn answered in his head. Definitely not. 

He started counting down for the band and then suddenly, Sam is playing a funky bass line for the first thirty seconds. Zayn doesn't recognize this song, but it seems like everyone else does; they cheer the band on like always and more people join right up in the front.

Shit, he thought. He's still here and Elisa is already bouncing her knees.

 _One of these nights_  
_One of these crazy ol' nights…_  
_We're gonna finding out, pretty mama  
_ _What turns on your lights_

"Wow! His voice is deep! I love this song!" Elisa alternates bouncing on her feet as she grabs Zayn's shoulder arm. 

"I don’t. I'm going deaf." Zayn grimaces. And it wouldn’t be a problem if Zayn actually knew the songs that the band was playing.

Suddenly, Elisa swings his arm as she dances on the spot. She moves almost every part of her body; from her shoulders to her hips—even the curls of her hair bounce. Zayn's face starts to heat up the more she moves. She goes in front him, grabbing his hands—pulling and pushing them back.

God, he cannot dance to save his life! Elisa should know this. Even if she can make him move with ease, he can feel everyone's stupid eyes watching him. Elisa's able to attract attention on herself so easily. In a good way. She's captivating unlike Zayn who's got a fixed grimace on his face.

It's nice to see her happy. It wasn't until recently that Elisa started going out again, accepted the big distance between here and New York. It hurt Zayn to move to another state and leave all his friends. But it must have hurt Elisa way more to have left her best friend and boyfriend. They were the top couple—the forever couple that lots of people liked.

Elisa would've possibly done everything to stay together. Long distance didn't matter to her. To her boyfriend on the other hand, he had a different view.

This is really the least he can do for Elisa. She dealt with the move worse than he did. Every other night, she cried about leaving. She was used to leaving—from Florida to France to Virginia to New York, that's how it always was for her, being a military daughter. But this was her first real boyfriend and she would've built up the courage to do something about it earlier, had she known she was only going to be in New York for 5 years, and spend 2 years getting to know her ex. This was Zayn's first time moving away and if he continues living with Yaser, it won't be the last. Zayn did just about anything a person can do who stayed in the other room, hearing quiet sobbing at 2am—nothing. He didn't mention it the next morning. Although, it's as if Elisa knew Zayn knew she's been feeling really low. She's intuitive like that.

He does his best to dance with her without being the stiff ass that he is. He spins her around, follows her twists and turns while silently begging his brain not to make him trip over his own feet. He starts to laugh as Elisa makes weird sound effects to their dance moves. Even Niall the country singer weirdly approves of them dancing. Zayn can tell since he's got this big smile on his face while he's holding the mic stand, gazing down on them proudly. Ugh—was this guy really watching them? Attention is the opposite of what Zayn wants. From anybody.

 _Do it for Elisa_ , his mind kept repeating.  _Fine_. Stupid shit.

More of the horrible country songs played on, none that Zayn knew. It's hard to dance to music one can't recognize but Zayn's trying really hard. It's taking almost all his energy to keep up with Elisa. He's too broken for this. And by broken, he means he lacks the exercise to be dancing for thirty minutes straight like her.

Out of nowhere, it was like someone possessed him to find the little bit of energy he has left for this last song.  If there's one thing, nobody can sit still during 'I Want You Back' by The Jackson 5. Not even an old man with a cane. Luckily, this dude Niall didn't disrespect the King of Pop either with his cover. Zayn might have by singing along.

"Goodnight, Beaufort!" Niall shouted through the mic as the drums and its cymbals clashed in the background. "Thank you for comin’!"

Zayn needed three drinks after that—or one massive jumbo size slurpee. He needs to look for a new heart soon if he continues to eat like this.

It's sunset now as they wander through the vendors. Blue and orange fill the sky tonight with a warm breeze that's not overwhelmingly humid. Zayn has a Coca Cola in his hand and a dozen of cinnamon-sugar donuts. Elisa has her own bag—Zayn doesn't wanna share this deep-fried goodness. 

It's worrying that some of these people are going to be the people Zayn has to deal with. There's teens his age yelling and screaming, blocking paths where there's a high volume of people. They don't look bad compared to the jocks who are wearing their letterman jackets. Zayn hopes they're not bad people and he's just overthinking and being a judgemental idiot. Like always. 

“Hey!” Suddenly, he was hit fast and hard by someone running by. Zayn sucks a deep breath as he feels his drink seeping through his shirt. He glares up at Niall—that country singing boy from earlier. 

"My apologies! I didn't mean t'spill!" There's that accent in there. And then there's his hand patting Zayn's belly dry with a napkin. A stranger has his hand on his stomach.

"Uh..." Zayn laughs drily. "Please stop touching me." Elisa starts to laugh beside him.

"Pardon?” He grimaces in confusion just as he turns his head, showing his ear. “I'm so sorry." He apologizes again and retracts his hand. "Do you want a shirt?" It was a vintage looking shirt with ‘Beaufort est. 1711’ sprawled across the chest in a faded gold calligraphy.

A shirt? Really? "No, I'm just going to go home." Zayn tugs his shirt off his skin, not wanting the large wet spot to stick against his body.

"You live nearby? You're local?" He asks in utter surprise. Both his eyebrows raise, and his eyes are wide in disbelief that they live here. He's right to be surprised.

"Yeah, I guess." It's not his business to know anything else. He'll give him the vaguest of answers seeing how annoyingly persistent he is.

"Are you his girlfriend?" He offers his hand to Elisa. Of course, he'd think that. They all do. "I'm Niall." 

"No! Are you whack?" Zayn scoffs while Elisa pretends to gag.

The two siblings grimace in disgust before Elisa can answer and shake his hand. "I'm his step-sister, Elisa. And he's my step-brother, Zayn. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too! You guys were awesome dancin' today." Niall nods at them. "I appreciate it when the crowd gets movin'."

"Surprisingly! Zayn never dances." Elisa elbows him.

"Not a lot of people do. It's normal." Zayn argues. Isn't it? 

They were at a bad spot to be talking. The amount of people around them made Zayn's head turn left and right in case they bumped into him.

"So, how did you like the show?" 

"I loved it!" Elisa gushes.

"My ears are still ringing." Zayn disliked concerts or anything like it. There's too much people, usually pushing and shoving to try and get to the front. He'd like to avoid all of that.

"You didn't like it?" The boy’s face softened, disappointment hardly hiding behind his eyes.

"It was nice." Zayn tried to make his answer sound just as nice. "But uh…" He couldn't. "I'm going to head home."

"Are you coming back?" Elisa asks. 

"Nah." Zayn shakes his head. "I'm exhausted. Call me if you need a ride home." He's already walking away with his keys spinning around his finger through the loop.

"Wait, if you're going home, then I might as well go too." Elisa raises her voice from behind.

Into his elbow, Zayn starts to yawn. "Okay." 

Elisa turns to Niall with a smile. "Nice to meet you, Niall. We'll see you around." 

"Bye now!"

Zayn snorts to himself, knowing how good Elisa is when it comes to making people like her. Boys in particular, she's got like a magical affect on them. Last year in their high school, just about every guy in their grade had a crush on her, even knowing that she has a boyfriend. And it seems like this Niall guy already likes her. Not even a day and Elisa is already having a better time than he is.

* * *

The disadvantage of being able to drive and own a car is that you're the ride everyone depends on. Zayn is able to sleep in just an extra five minutes and still make it to school with 5 minutes to spare. That extra time to sleep in is crucial for him. It practically makes or breaks his day. But because this school is twenty minutes away from their house if one walked, Elisa persists to get a ride with Zayn now that her boyfriend isn't here to do it for her anymore. And it's annoying how she wakes him up ten minutes early, especially on their first day of school, to get there half an hour early. 

Zayn loses the fight. He's keeping every swear word he has for Elisa for that moment and throws on the first of clothing on top of his drawer. It's a black branded sweater with a red oriental influenced font and rose right on top over the heart and the same pair of black jeans he wore to the Autumn festival. It looks clean enough. No ones going to look at the stain from the Mexican corn he had.

"You look so morbid with all the black." Says Elisa as she looks at Zayn from the passenger seat.

"I'm going to drop you off to the marshes." Zayn's face turns deadpan. “And no one except me will know where you are.”

“Asshole.” She scoffs.

Everyone who goes to school is smart enough to know not to go half an hour early. It's not like anyone wants to be there in the first place. They all go fifteen minutes before the bell at most. At least that's what he thinks these people at his new school will do.

Zayn's got another thing coming with his kind of mindset. There's a flood of cars coming through the parking lot. It's 8:00... That's 20 minutes before the bell and people are seriously all here. On time? Shit, not to mention early as fucking hell. Zayn gets where Elisa's coming from trying to get to school early today. The entire process of registration and finding slots for classes can take a while, but god forbid being at school early because they want to.

Pushing through the foyer, there's many groups scattered all over. There's the basketball team—Zayn can tell they're the basketball team with the way they revolve around the ball between them all. Then there’s the football team. As if he didn’t expect that all down here in South Carolina.

"It's fucking cliques." Zayn grimaces weakly. 

"You're a hater." 

"Ma' name's Forrest. Forrest Gump." Zayn tries to do the southern accent. 

"That's so ugly of you. And you're already ugly." Elisa blinks at him as if she's the innocent and nice one. 

"You'll regret that." Zayn grins as he walks away from his sister. She doesn't chase him, so he goes on ahead, following through his choice to leave her hanging back. 

His timetable is a blessing in some sort of way. Looking at it, he starts off with history and goes right into spare afterwards. It's not like he has to be in history class all the time—he can sleep in until lunch and go to his afternoon classes, it's perfect. Until Elisa wakes him up for school then he's fucked. 

Speaking of history class, Zayn came in right before the bell; meaning most seats in the class were taken. There were only three seats and the tabletops don't look too good. It also means everyone's eyes were on him for being the new kid. Do people here pick on the new kid?

"Hi, pardon me. Can I see your timetable?"

He can't say no to the teacher, can he? He'll get kicked out of class before he can even sit down. Standing up is very uncomfortable seeing as though most students right now feel the need to be staring rather than minding their own business. 

"Welcome, Zayn." She smiled. "I'm Ms. Greene. Let me just start you off with your textbook and then you can sit anywhere you'd like." 

He kept his head down, stared at the teacher's desk as she wrote in her log sheet for her textbooks. From the corner of his eyes, he could sense the class listening in their conversation that doesn't exist anymore. They were probably tuning in to hear his voice; see if the new kid in school is normal enough to be left alone, be their prop in the school hierarchy, or be treated in a way that's immaturely unfair and uncalled for.

"Thanks." He collected the textbook from her hands and into his arms before he can sit down at the back corner where the wall of fascists are. There are posters of Mussolini and Hitler, with a list of things they did as fascists. 

The teacher started on her lecture again about the Italian Renaissance; something he ashamedly knows way too much about. He geeked out when it came to learn all about the 15th-17th century era, solely because of a video game that's ventured off into shit. He doesn't play now, but he's still very familiar with it all. From politicians, artists, people of influence, architects and what they built, their relationship between different cities such as Milan—he'll be alright for this unit.

He catches someone who shouldn't have been staring—someone who knows they shouldn't be staring at Zayn like he's an animal at the zoo. They've never seen new kids before around here? How stupid. They quickly turn back to the front and put their hands in their lap.

"Hi!" A boy chirped at him from his left side. He was big and tall—like a quarterback but his face was too gentle to be seen as one. Zayn looks up at him and does a double take when he realizes how familiar he looks.

"Hey." Zayn replies quietly, holding his head with his elbow prompted over his table.

"I'm Frank." That guitarist or banjo playing guy from that bird band.

"Zayn." He replied. Then he gestured to his mouth. "What accent is that?"

"What accent?"

"The—uh...  _A'm Frank_." Zayn does a weak jazz hands as he mocks the accent.

"I don't sound like that." He pouts. "You from the Yankee's?"

Zayn sighs loudly. "Brooklyn, dude. Yankees is the baseball team."

"I know that, Yankee Doodle."

What did he call him? Never mind, he won’t even try to prolong this conversation. "What page are we on?"

"A hundred and ten."

" _N' ten_." Zayn repeated with an accent before he looked up at Frank. "Sorry."

Minutes have passed since Zayn arrived on page 110. It was their homework for the day—just a few questions that he can probably finish in fifteen minutes if he really tried. No one was really doing it, so he laid back like everyone else.

"Why'd y’all move here?" Frank asks.

"My stepdad got transferred here. He's in the Navy."

"Cool. You likin' Beaufort so far?"

"I miss New York." That answers his question, right?

"Sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t at first." Frank laughs shyly afterwards. "I moved from San Francisco ten years ago and I still miss the place. Everyone here always has to say somethin' about my eyes as if they've never seen someone Asian before."

Zayn shows him a timid grin; that's actually funny, but he won't laugh. He won't give Frank the satisfaction of having the new kid laughing at his jokes.

"Shit, and you have that accent?" Zayn takes a sharp inhale. That's all he can really point out at the moment. How long before Zayn starts talking like that?

"Not like yours is any better." Frank grimaces then clears his throat. "Oy Jimmy! Can ya help me with the cannoli here? I got the pizza with me too! Bada bing, bada boom! Cab driva, drive me to 5th street, pronto!”

Zayn breaks into a small smile before he turns back to his textbook. During the rest of the class, he just stared down on the picture of the Duomo in Florence.

* * *

 Making it through an entire day at a new school is an experience that Zayn thinks he probably has to repeat many more times until something else new comes to pique this school of goldfish's interests. He's comes across more people, no one interesting like Frank who actually managed to make Zayn laugh at his dumb New York jokes. His kind of humour might go well with Ryan—or so it would seem like it. Ryan would get quite defensive about the accent, how people in New York don't actually sound like that. Sad fact, they do.

Still, he can see why Frank isn't a fan of the students at their school. Something about students wearing weird red caps, loose jeans prints a picture of truck-driving hicks, which screams bigotry to Zayn. Can’t forget about the Confederate stickers on some of these cars in the parking lot.

His second last class of the day is photography. Why would they put such a class at the end? You can't catch nice photos of anything at the end of the day. In the morning, there's still dew over the grass. In the winter, the snow still blankets the branches of the trees, and it glistens like diamonds. By the time afternoon comes it's all gone—dried, melted, winded away, or stepped on—it won't be there again.

His last class of the day is thankfully writer's craft. He had two choices to end off his day: writer's craft or biology. The idea of science is fine; it's a complicated thing that always changes, and in a way, it's also artistically cool. For Zayn on the other hand, he'll probably ruin science since he can't really study without getting distracted every so often. Sometimes he gets distracted once and it's all over—he won't open his textbook or notes anymore for the night. So writer's craft it is.

The first thing he notices when he walks into the classroom is that it smells like pencil shavings and vanilla perfume. Sounds like a real killer combination. Students were already in class, sitting on top of the tables with their foot on the chair like they're cool kids in college who just came back from a coffee break. 

Speaking of cool kids, there's that countrified boy who sang in the Autumn festival. Whether or not he's actually cool; he just looks cool—Zayn doesn't really think anybody's cool. He's wearing an open dark green plaid shirt with a white vintage California undershirt. He's hanging around two girls—one with ginger red hair and one with black hair. That's what caught Zayn's attention at first. And then it was that same boy looking at him in a subtle surprise. He's more mature-looking than he initially thought in this light—at least 19 years old; no more than twenty.

He sits behind the first row of the tables; closer to the door than the window, though he could use fresh air. His fingers fidget with one another; cracking his fingers and knuckles, cleaning the dirt under his nails before he starts to tap his pen on his table. All he wants is to go home and sleep. And there's an hour and a half until school's finished.

"You're sitting in my seat, new kid." A hand slams right down on his notebook. Slowly does Zayn look up at the face of the owner of the hand.

"Oh." Zayn doesn't actually budge. He just stares at the kid with dreads in a ponytail and white t-shirt. Is he getting threatened? Because he's not worried for his well being. 

"I'm kidding." He laughs nervously, raising his hands in defence. "We sit anywhere we want. We ain’t that uptight.”

"Do you wanna sit here? I can move." Zayn asks slowly as he starts to turn; his knees pointing towards the side. He doesn't want to move but to avoid this conversation he will.

"It's cool. Where'd you move from, boy?"

 _Boy?_  "How do you know I moved from somewhere?" Zayn lifts a brow up. It's not like he mentioned it—is he that obvious?

"I can just tell. Up from the Yankee’s right?” The guy shrugs. His eyes suddenly widen. "I'm Griffin."

"Zayn." He shows Griffin a quick grin; a very dry one at that.

"How are you liking it here so far?"

"I don't."

"Oh." Griffin blurts out. "Trust me, the cities aren't all that compared to our dearest Carolina."

Zayn doesn't bother wondering why this guy knew he was from a city. Knowing he didn't mention where he's from, Griffin could've guessed he's from the countryside as well of god knows where. He could pass for a country folk—say howdy and tip his cowboy hat at everyone he passes by. It's actually sad to hear he doesn't like the city—the cities have the best of everything.

"Hi! I didn't recognize you." His classmate from the concert comes right beside Griffin. He throws his arm around so casually.

"Me neither." Zayn lies. He doesn't forget faces. It's the brown-haired boy who sung at the festival and practically felt him up all over his torso.

"I remember your name. You remember mine?" He grins.

"You're really going to put me on the spot?" Zayn grimaces at Griffin to see if he agrees with him. All he does is laugh—that's not assuring at all.

"No." The boy laughs quietly. In confidence, he smiles as he points at Zayn. "It's Zach, right?"

"Zayn." He stares in confusion. Zayn thought he said he remembered his name?

He blinks for a few seconds before he shrugs and grins again. "We're even then. I'm Niall." He offers his hand.

Just because of that awful introduction, Zayn doesn’t shake his hand. "Saying you remember my name and then getting it wrong is worse than me not remembering yours." 

"I tried." He shrugs.

"F for effort." Zayn puffs quietly just before he looks out the window. 

"Says the one who's wearing a black hoodie. It's 70 degrees outside."

Zayn scoffs. "Thanks, meteorologist. Tell me more about the seven-day forecast." 

His eyes shut as his classmates hung about his table like it was the hub of the class. He was feeling sleepy, bored, uninterested of all the things he's overhearing from conversations around him. Home was on his mind, and no, not his house ten minutes away from school—the one in Brooklyn. He misses Ryan and being able to take pictures of things he likes; things that he knows he won't change his views on. 

And here he is, countryside where they call their small town a city with a population a hundred times less than New York put together. Shit music, shit people, shit Confederate or Baptist beliefs, shit everything. His life is shit. A future in New York is what he had—now he's back in the past, wondering what his future is going to look like. He knew before, and he's back in the dark.

* * *

Zayn hoped for things to turn out for the better as he slowly tried to give this new part of his life a chance. Knowing better, chances are called chances for the same reason they don't mean 'a hundred percent certainty'. It seems like life for his step-sister and step-dad was going so well. He noticed Yaser smiling more, starting up old hobbies he gave up. He didn't know Yaser could paint until one weekend when he looked outside his window in the morning to see Yaser out in the yard, painting the scene around their house. As for his step-sister, she already had friends that dropped by their house to pick her up, so they can go downtown. What were their names? Selena and Eve? They were alright. Zayn could tell they're close with one another—probably because they were the only few girls at school, without counting three others, that aren't white. 

And then there's him—pretty much the focus in the school's quiet gossip. There was something about the way people stared as he walked in the halls and in class that forced him to eat lunch alone in the cafeteria, sit with the quiet kids in class who eventually have a voice when it comes to talking with other quiet kids except him. The title of new kid faded, and he eventually became regular kid—the regular kid who lives in that big house near the marshes on Inwood Plantation with a cute and loveable sister, New York city trash, and doesn't talk to anybody but his sister. At least they don't consider him a Carolinian. In other words, someone from South  _Cakalaka_.

He wrote to Ryan twice since he moved; both letters explaining how boring this place is, how everyone sounds the same, how weirdly happy everyone is. It's been a month since he last wrote, and he hasn't gotten any kind of reply whatsoever which makes everything more worse than it is.

It was like the fates preferred everyone else but Zayn. And it wasn't long until someone preferred Elisa too. Zayn wasn't sure whether to be jealous that someone is crushing on Elisa already or to cut that shit out because Elisa doesn't need another heartache.

He doesn't think he's supposed to know about this boy’s crush. It's not like he wanted to know either. It was only a coincidence that he sat close to the table where this kid whom he didn’t recognize and Niall were at during World Issues class, overheard his own name in the conversation, Elisa's and then the words, "… She makes me nervous."

"Oh boy." Niall blurts out as the kid mentioned 'Elisa's brother'. Zayn glares at them as he has a book on Turkish Politics open. 

He rolls his eyes in annoyance before he looks down at his book again that he's supposed to be taking notes from for his research report on  _Turkey: the rise and fall of the Ottoman Empire._

They talk quieter than before—probably knowing Zayn can hear everything they're saying about him and Elisa. And eventually, the boy leaves the library with the hall-pass and Niall sits down on the empty chair beside Zayn, slamming down a thick soft-cover textbook that caused Niall to flinch, Zayn to glare, the class to stare, and the librarian to shush him.

"Sorry." Niall smiles nervously at the class, raises his hand in apology before he stands the book up on the table, opening it right in the middle to cover his face.

He turns to look at Zayn, leans right against him as he stares down at his book to see there's something worth reading before he looks up at Zayn, the same time Zayn stares up at him. The eye contact stayed for merely a second—a second that made Zayn feel inadequate before he looked at the curls of Niall's hair from his weird quiff thing on top of his head.

"Hey." He said quietly.

"What the hell are you doing?" Zayn hisses immediately. “You’re so sus.”

"Readin'. Duh." Niall shakes the book to prove his point before he smirks at Zayn. “And what did  _you_  call me?”

"Deadass, there’s a dozen tables in here. Go read somewhere else."

"Are you always this hostile, sugar?"

Zayn groans because his accent is hard to ignore, along with his Southern slang. God, only these people would call anybody sugar and make it a valid name. "Listen  _pardner_ , I got work to do. So, if you could hoedown throw-down it at another table."

Niall looks at him confused. It takes him seconds to reply. "You city folks sure are nice."

"And you with your southern hospitality—it isn't nice gossiping about other people."

He leans even closer, directing his ear towards Zayn. He takes a few seconds again to reply—what's going on? "Oh, that I can explain. They're in the same year. That's all."

"No way." Zayn sneers at him. That’s not all there is to that sketchy conversation he witnessed.

"Yes way, Zayn." Niall pauses, and then there’s a mischievous smirk on his face. "Zaynie. Zen. Zayno—"

"Please, shut up."

Niall’s eyes widened in excitement. "Have I mentioned how hostile you are?"

"And yet, you're still here."

"You haven't actually told me to go away now, darlin’."

"My hostility to your annoyance isn't obvious?"

"I just figured you were being defensive and all is because you suck at conversin', so you resort to arguments to keep up this conversation that you can't hold. Or you’re flirtin'.”

He blinks with his eyes wincing at Niall, unsure if he heard him right. Flirting? "I'm not a baby." Zayn argues. "I know how to converse without dumb ass banter. And I know how to flirt, and I don't flirt with annoying boys."

"So you flirt with boys?" Zayn swears Niall fluttered his eyelashes at him because Zayn wouldn't shiver on the spot after seeing that. It looked like he shrugged so Niall doesn't ask about that.

"No! I don't flirt with anyone." Zayn tells him with annoyance.

"So... How do you know how to flirt if you don't flirt?" Niall asks. "You're more confused than a gator in winter."

“I may be confused but at least I'm creative. That was an awful simile, really…”

“Okay, Yankee boy. You give it a shot, why don’t ya?”

Zayn shuts his book as he stands up from his seat. “I’d rather swim in the marshes. Bye Nigel."

"Nigel?" He repeats in disgust. “How dare you?”

* * *

 

To Zayn, things got weird when Halloween was just around the corner. People spoke about haunted houses they should visit for the night, see who can last staying the whole entire night without leaving—stupid things that'll probably get the cops on scene. He tried to block it out as white noise, go about his own life. Besides, he has his own plans for the night that don't involve students from his school messing with the dead.

Fortunately, Zayn found a job downtown at a café. He works part time from 3pm-7 as the new barista on Tuesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. His only experience with coffee is drinking it usually with one cream, one sugar. He really needs the money to get out of this place and head back to New York, so he can go to NYU. 

Ever since he moved, his portfolio has gone nowhere. The drive to pick up his camera isn't there anymore. He hasn't even touched his camera since he pulled it out of the box. The time, the inspiration—it's all gone. He truly wonders from time to time if it was all because of a spurring moment in his life that made him pick up a camera or is he truly meant to do this because he has the love and passion for it? He always believed it was the love and passion. Now that it's all gone, does it still apply?

Zayn completely forgot about the annoyance of Niall and Frank until they joined Zayn and Elisa's table for lunch. This was the fifth lunch they had together since school started. Today, they sat together for the purpose of Elisa needing help with her history assignment, all before they were interrupted. Niall had a veggie wrap with chicken fingers while Frank had a burger. They sat closer to Zayn's side than to Elisa's, as if they were all friends. When did he recall that they were even considered good acquaintances?

"What are you up to, bud?" Niall leans against him to nudge his shoulder.

"Bud..." Zayn grimaces, then he glares at Frank. "A more important question, why are you here?"

"Having lunch. It's a cafeteria, Zayn." Frank shakes his wrapped-up burger and Elisa starts to laugh. Immediately, Niall started to smile at him, and he knew quickly what they were here for: to annoy the shit out of the ‘Yankee’.

"Dude, I don't actually care."

"You asked." Niall shrugs and nudges Elisa. "Does your brother have a soft side, Elisa?"

"Everyone has a soft side." She laughs quietly. "Maybe you'll see it some day, just not anytime soon."

Zayn is already annoyed out of his mind. He sat there the entire lunch, daydreaming about how different life would be if he didn't move, how living in Carolina might not be too bad if certain people were here. He was always stuck in the past, not sure how to move forward like everyone else has.

In silence, he sat observing Frank. It's telling from his eyes how much he adores his friends. Sometimes, he observes Niall too. What's so great about Niall specifically that's got the whole school wrapped up? Passing by, they always say hi in different variations from a quick clap on the back to small talk before they walk off. If everyone likes him, why is he always pestering Zayn?

* * *

 The one place that agrees with the colour black is his workplace. Uniform is all black and then an apron. His manager has him working as the cashier and as their extra set of hands for coffee since it takes two seconds to pour some in a cup and hand it off. People usually stay the entire time he's here—until closing with their books and laptops, asking for a refill or two. It's a place to also study and hang out which is nice and different from the things he's seen in New York. Well, the only thing he's seen every block is Starbucks. 

"Hey Travis." Zayn hears the small jingle as the door opens. He tries not to make a face of distaste too obvious as he watches Niall in all his happy glory walking in, saying hi to nearly every person inside.

Finally, he comes across the counter, surprised to see Niall looking back.

"You work here? That's awesome."

"Yeah. What would you like?" It seems like Zayn will see more of Niall than he truly wants.

"Just an Americano."

"Zayn, put it on the house. He’s good friends with Gemma.” Travis tells him. Gemma is their boss so there's no way he'd defy that. All he can think about is how Travis looked so familiar and its because him and Niall are in the same goddamn band. This is his first shift working with Travis and he’s practically babysitting Zayn since their manager is out for the moment.

"Thanks, Tee!”

"You always hang out here or something?" Zayn asks, trying to find some interest but there's none.

"Yeah. My favourite spot. But I've got a group project to do so I can't—how do you Yankee’s say it—chill." Niall shrugs.

"Cool." Zayn says plainly.

Once he fills Niall a mug of hot water and espresso that finishes as an Americano, he sets it over the counter for him with a small plate and napkin under.

"Thanks a bunch.” He grins when he takes it off the counter. “I can give you a ride home when you're done." Niall offers out of nowhere.

"What?" Zayn frowns. He wasn’t expecting that, and he wasn’t comfortable feeling like he’s done something wrong because he hasn’t. Niall's just not aware of his boundaries and what he’s allowed to do. Drive him home? They just met.

"I can give you a ride home when you finish." He repeats.

Grimacing weakly, Zayn shakes his head. "No, I drove here so it's… Fine."

"'Til then, bud."

As minutes go by until it becomes an hour, Niall's group slowly arrived. They ordered their drinks before setting down at the table Niall saved for them. To Zayn's surprise, all five of them were quiet as they worked. They had two laptops around them while they discussed ethics within corporations and if companies truly believe in following them for society or for their own personal gain.

Without listening into their discussion and points, time went very slow.

* * *

Halloween night, Zayn's fortunate not to work—they close for the evening so he's home celebrating Halloween however one could say they can. He's got a bag of hot lime Cheetos and endless Halloween DvDs ready to be played one after the other. He's starting with  _The Texas Chainsaw Massacre_  and going with a second movie right after if the first one shows mercy.

He's wrapped up in his yellow-orange sweater and black track pants with his blanket wrapped around his shoulder. He licks his thumb which is dusted with Cheeto cheese, anxious in his spot. There's regret in his head as silence floods his room, and the only sound coming out is the eerie music from his T.V. It's as if the shadows from the corners of his room are growing bigger and darker. His eyes flicker to the door, and then his window before he could look at his closet. He knows he's scaring himself, yet he can't forget that this is South Carolina—a damned city burning with history filled with colonization through brutal murder and slavery.

All of the sudden he startles at the deafening sound of  _Come on Eileen_ by Dexys Midnight Runners. It was playing from downstairs as if the band is playing directly right below him. The song is only familiar because this is Elisa's favorite song.

What is Elisa up to? It's nearly half an hour to nine—nobody needs this kind of wake-up call at this time. Yaser may not be home for the night due to a 24-hour shift but god forbid, Zayn needs peace too.

"Elisa!" Zayn yells as soon as he gets out of his room. He stomps halfway down the stairs as he's yelling over the music shaking the house. "What is—going on...?"

His words falter at the sight of students from his school, dressed up for Halloween pouring into his house. There he was on his stairs, dressed for bed with Cheeto dust on the corner of his mouth, having an unofficial staring contest.

"What the fuck..." He whispered to himself, pushing his hair up and off to the side.

At the door stood Griffin, Frank, Kayla, and Niall. These people were really at his house, dressed up from head to toe. Niall was the only one to notice him, giving him a grimace that translated to either, 'You're not dressed up?' or 'You, at a party?' It's not like he got to make a choice here.

"Elisa!" Zayn made his way down the stairs anyway. He shoves between two people as he looks for Elisa. He saw a glimpse of her in the kitchen with a white dress and a pair of angel wings.

Surely, it was his her. She was having a conversation—now she's being pulled away by Zayn.

"Wanna tell me what you're up to?" His voice tries to overpower the music.

"Dad said I can throw a party." Elisa yells back in his ear. Yaser said that? He's getting too soft.

"You didn't say anything until now?"

"Because I knew you'd react like this!" Elisa explains. “It’ll be fine.”

"Yeah because I’m gonna get shit for this. Yaser will automatically blame me for it like I'm still the same idiot back home." And it's a stupid school night.

"Everyone will be gone by midnight, I promise."

"Whatever." He huffs, scowling over his shoulder at the guy who bumped into him.

"Why don't you hang around?" Her eyes gleam at him. “Lots of people from our school is coming. We gotta make friends in some way, Zayn.”

"I have my own plans." Zayn tells her.

"Watching horror films all night doesn't count." Elisa grabs both his shoulders. "This is for your own good."

That's not something Zayn wants to hear. "My own good? For what, to make friends here, be social? I don't need to." Zayn hisses. “I have friends. They’re back in Brooklyn. They still count.” Or so Zayn really wants them to. It might be time to face the reality where they aren’t friends anymore and Zayn needs to move on from it.

"Ever since mom died, you became less interactive and so closed off." Concern filled her entire expression while Zayn's temper increased.

"Elisa, don’t go on about my life like you know what's up." Zayn grimaces. "Trisha was my mom. You only knew her for five years."

"She's my mom too. She was." Elisa scoffs. "How could you say that she isn't?"

"The same way you easily talk about me and my ways as if you know me so well."

"I do!"

"No, you don't!" Zayn exclaims. Things have been different since they came here. “Do you think I’d get along with any of these people here? They’re so whack with all this country shit. At the same time, they make fun of me so it all works out. I don’t like them, they don’t like me.”

“You’re so stubborn! Get to know them or something!” Elisa huffs. “I lived in three different continents and had to make new friends each time I moved. People are different everywhere you go!”

“You can do it easily because you’re a military brat—you’re freaking talented at it. I'm  _not_. Ryan, Jay—all the guys back home—are the only friends I had my whole life. Sorry if some dude here can’t replace them, Ms. Sunshine.” Zayn's grimace gets sourer as he watches all these kids from town raiding through his kitchen for food. "Enjoy your party, but don't make awful excuses to get me to stay like how it's for my own good." 

Now, there's going to be a ton of dirt in their house with everyone still wearing their shoes. Really? People don't take their shoes off in other people's house? Does that mean they don't respect their own house to do the same thing?

Zayn turns around to go back to his room so he can make his way far from Elisa where he can't see her, and she can't see him. It's both for their own good to be away from each other. They rarely fight so this makes this fight one of the worst ones they’ve ever had together. He shoved right into a body and finds himself looking right at Niall who must've been standing behind him all this time. They see each other, but out of frustration and annoyance he still had from his argument with Elisa, he shoves past him, wanting to go somewhere far from here.

"Wow,  _mayne_." Niall exhales slowly and blinks as he follows Zayn. That’s all he has to say? Even after Zayn dissed him and all his friends? He really didn’t mean it like that. It’s one of those things that you blurt out because you’re not thinking about consequences.

"Oh cool, you're in my house." Zayn says flatly. Obviously, sarcastic. 

"Nice costume. What are you supposed to be, a bee?" Niall pinches his yellow-orange sweater while holding a bottle of Stella in his other hand.

"Idiot. I'm in my regular clothes." Zayn grumbles. What's with Niall and these stupid jokes? "What about you, a nerd?” He was wearing a dark green crewneck sweater, wayfarer sunglasses, loose khaki pants, and blue New Balance shoes.

"The Brain—you know, Brian Johnson. Breakfast Club?" He looks down at his clothes. "Can't you tell or ain’t ya properly educated in movie classics?"

"Does it look like I like the Breakfast Club? Classic or not?” Zayn huffs. "Why do you always have to be so annoying towards me?”

"You’re just an easy target.” Niall grins as he shakes his head at Zayn.

"Whatever.” He steps back. Niall didn't need to be so close—he doesn't want him close like that. He's such an odd guy with this free spirit.

" _You're_  annoyin’, did you know that?" Niall asks.

Is he hearing right? Did Niall really say that? " _I'm_   _annoying?_  You're the one who started this conversation. I'm leaving." 

He doesn't have a place in mind to go to. Neither does he want to stay anymore, knowing that this is going to last the whole night and that Elisa and him aren't on good terms. Now, he really doesn't care. He's tired of everyone expecting him to be this positive and upbeat guy who needs to make twenty different friends to feel secured. He only has one, and that security feels just as fine. He needs space, and ever since he came here, it's like he's pulling everyone in for no reason. With the way things are right now, Zayn takes a shot of vodka before he starts to look around.

To get Niall away, maybe he needs to do something that'll freak him out—make him regret ever talking to a guy like Zayn. He already has this dark and melancholic demeanour draped right over him; he might as well use it and get Niall far away from him as possible.

"Where are you going, trick or treating?" Niall asks as Zayn grabs his black jean jacket.

"No." He grimaces to himself while Niall can't see his expressions. "The graveyard."

"So, you're going home?" Then Niall bursts out laughing.

"Fuck off."

"I'll go with you. It's a bit wild to do tonight, ain't it?"

"What?" His face twists. "Why would you go?"

"I don’t know. I actually don’t like parties. I just came for the beer." Then Niall adds, "I'm also trying’a get used to your Yankee slangs. I can't understand a word, my god!"

He hasn’t even been using slang from New York that much at all! If anyone needs to get used to accents, it’s Zayn who needs to get used to understanding what the hell Niall says half the time. That doesn't seem suspicious at all. Weren't they doing way too much of that already?

Unexpectedly, it did all stop. It got quiet on their five-minute walk towards the cemetery. Zayn brought with him a bottle of sweet tea just to keep his mind wrapped up on something.  _Drink, drink,_  his mind repeated. But he needed to think of something quick—something to scare Niall away. He reminds him of a puppy who doesn't know when to stop licking.

He hesitates to step past the gate as the fog goes by with the moonlight bouncing off the tombstones from afar. There's a chill in the air that brushes by his neck, causing him to shiver stiffly—even with a sweater and jacket on. He can see the dew drops on the grass as he looked out and the leaves of the willow trees weakly swaying left and right, rustling as another gust of wind comes by. Someone should've added street lamps; in case someone weird like Zayn wants to visit a graveyard at night. Specifically, visit on Halloween without a flashlight.

It's all in the movies, Zayn thinks. Until they mention it's based on a true story and the concept of fiction is gone. There's going to be a nun and a long-haired girl in a white gown stalking him and he's going to shit his pants. 

It's only his footsteps amongst the gravel path. He can't hear any footsteps trailing behind him anymore, only his own. And he's scared deep into his bones to stop walking because once he does, he won't hear anything else but his breathing and the cold air of the night.

"Fuck." Zayn curses breathily. He stops dead in his tracks as his face warms up. He looks around; tombstone after tombstone, the cold night’s air wisping around him—it's all he sees around him. He starts to walk backwards before he can completely turn around towards the entrance. 

Fucking Niall. He really left him at a cemetery? Sure, Zayn's crazy in the mind to pretend to be interested in visiting a graveyard on Halloween night. Just not alone. He only came here to scare Niall, not leave him like Niall did with him. Maybe there's a lesson in all of this that Zayn will gladly learn right when he gets home.

"Hey!" A hand pulls him by the shoulder.

"Fuck!" Zayn shakes the hand off him as his heart starts to beat again.

"What are we doin' here?" Niall asks casually.

"Are you insane?" Zayn hisses. "Wandering away alone like that?"

"I've been here many times. Ain't nothin' frightenin'."

"Where'd you go?"

"Just yonder." Niall starts to walk away. Zayn doesn't leave a big gap between them. He follows right behind, tempted to hold Niall by his shoulder arm but he doesn't. That's stupid.

They're on the grass, walking past different stones and those large stone caskets with the names and details carved right on top. Zayn's been to cemeteries, not at night, not on the night where its believed the spirits are most active.

There's a difference between believing in ghosts and spirits. While both may be real, spirits are things to be worried about the most. They hold a lot of energy, either positive or gravely negative that could end up making life a never-ending nightmare. His mom liked paranormal things. Anything haunting, she'll read up on it, share everything she knows about it with Zayn. And one thing he can't forget is that spirits are able to feed off your energy—and most often when in encountered with an evil spirit, it's not good to be afraid like he is now.

"Why are we here?" Zayn asks as they stop by a tall tombstone with a curved top, letters and words engraved in the stone. There’s moss on top and dirt all over that makes it hard to read.

"This is my mama's grave." Niall explains casually. Zayn almost dropped on the spot—not sure why he felt that way. "Just wanted to stop by."

Zayn didn't feel like he belonged there. In fact, he shouldn't be here watching Niall pay respects to his mom in the first place. It’s not that he didn’t want to be; whatever helps a person out, Zayn doesn’t mind lending them that hand. It’s just that he doesn’t know Niall well enough or know Niall’s mother in the first place to be giving Niall a pat on the back, saying, ‘there, there’. Although it’s not like Niall needs it—he’s got a tense look on his face as he wipes the moss and dirt off the tombstone.

"She died when I was 13." Niall explains. "She would’ve gave me great advice to deal with miscreants like you. But you ain’t half as bad as these caretakers who ain’t clean anybody’s stone!”

Zayn can only hope someone is cleaning his mother’s grave back in Brooklyn. Zayn hasn’t visited his mother’s grave since he left New York. And it feels so weird being miles away from their home. "Who do you live with then?” He asks.

"My ma n' pa." Niall answers and adds, "I don't know my father, but they say he's no good so I'm okay not knowin' anythin' about him."

"Right." Do fathers ever stay or is that just some myth? Are they ever good people?

"I usually leave sunflowers for her because those are her favourite." Niall sighs as he pushes his hair back with both hands. “But I’ve been so busy lately with my sister, the chickens, school…”

"Why are you telling me this?" Zayn asks quietly.

"That's what friends do. They talk."

"We aren't friends." Zayn says quietly. He really means what he said; he hasn't contributed in any way to be called a friend. 

"You listened." Says Niall. "For once—because you usually talk a lot. You must love the sound of your own voice. That makes you a friend o’mine”

Why's he insisting on it so much? Deep inside, Zayn's chest is twisting as his mind goes back to what he said to Elisa:  _Do you think I’d get along with any of these people here?_ As he looks at Niall, there’s a chance that he can—if he looked past the very annoying accent and cheerful character he's got going on. So far, he's not interested in taking any chances.

“And as a friend, I'm gonna be completely honest with you,” Niall tilts his head as if he's disappointed in Zayn. “You’re being an asshole. I have no idea what’s going on with you, and maybe you’ll figure it out in time. You can swear at me all you want or call me a hick, but I ain’t goin' anywhere. I wouldn’t change a thing about you. It's probably like a puberty thing anyway, right?”

"You ruin everything." Zayn huffs as he walks away. 

What's there to ruin in the first place?

In Zayn's mind, they were only at the cemetery for ten minutes. By the time he came home, it was an hour past midnight and he saw way too many people that didn't reside at his house. Last time he checked, there were only three of them—not three dozen.

There were idiots slapping his plants, idiots laying on his grass, idiots sleeping on his porch bench—just drunks having the time of their lives on his lawn. He can feel his heart beat racing in annoyance as he thought about Data—she must be hiding in his room, not asleep when she should be. The door was wide open for anybody to walk in; that wasn't the way he left it when he walked out with Niall. He knew this party was a bad idea; Yaser should've known that too from the start.

He walked right in with Niall behind him who looked at him nervously. If there was one person who can convince people to leave, Niall is probably his best bet. Everyone liked him; they would listen to him more than Zayn. Or he could scare everyone into leaving and never coming back.

All of the sudden, there was a fight in his living room. And a broken coffee table. Before Zayn could make a move, a voice bellowed right behind him. He was both relieved and worried for his own being. Yaser is a scary guy when he's in his uniform.

* * *

Yaser wasn't impressed with anybody after Elisa's party on Halloween. He woke them up at 5 in the morning as punishment, so they could clean their house before they leave for school. The crowd left a lot of mess for Elisa and Zayn to clean up, from stained couches and carpets to toilets where people missed the bowl. Zayn is used to cleaning washrooms because he does it at work, so there wasn't much to it. 

The full story must have not been explained to Yaser when Elisa asked for permission. As Zayn scrubbed the tub of the bathroom, he could hear Yaser. He didn't sound happy. Matter of fact, he sounded unimpressed and at worst, disappointed with Elisa for letting it get so bad. Zayn's absence wasn't discussed, seeing how Yaser prefers he be far from the nonsense that was Elisa's party.

The coffee table that used to be in his living room is now in a black garbage bag. He can hear the wood rattling against one another as he goes to throw it in the garbage. Their yard looks like the garbage truck came by, picked up their garbage bin to empty it, only to fling it all over their yard—cups, plastic, toilet paper.

"Zayn." Yaser called out. He still sounds unhappy.

"Yes, sir?" He drops the black bag beside him. It's 7am; Yaser should be at work by now. He’s working on his cuffs as he stands behind the island in the kitchen. His tone matches his face. It’s odd how they’re not blood related in any way, Zayn can still see his features in Yaser. It isn’t like he can see any in his real dad—he doesn’t know what he looks like.

"Whose idea was it to throw that party last night?" Yaser asks.

"I don't know. I swear I didn't do anything." Zayn scoffs. "I left, then I came home to the house trashed." Even when Elisa said it was her plan, Yaser still thinks Zayn influenced Elisa in some way.

"Elisa threw it?" Yaser asks. Well, yeah. He saw her screaming her lungs off, probably 5 drinks in before the music stopped.

"I don't know!" Zayn starts to shout. Yaser easily gets on his nerves. "I don't know the whole story! I wasn't there that night! I didn't even know it was happening! Why do you always blame me?"

"Don't raise your voice at me. You know why I'm asking you first." He gestures at him. "I look to you to take care of her, and what happens?"

"She's fifteen! She's old enough to take care of herself. She doesn't need me." Zayn scowls. "I have my own life too. If she wants to hang around with that crowd, let her. As for me, I'd like to stay far away from them. I'm finished with all of that, I promise."

"After yesterday, I don't think she's capable."

"She's capable." Zayn rolls his eyes. "It wasn't her trashing the living room. It was the stupid kids from our school."

"I know. But I just don't want something like yesterday ever happening again." Zayn could see he's stressing out. "I had phone calls from five different parents asking what happened. And I didn't have answers for them."

"I get it." Zayn sighs. "You're fine, alright. It's just a new place and people here tend to be very stuck up. You've also been busy with work, so I get it. You're stressed, I'm still adjusting, and Elisa is trying."

And for the first time, Zayn notices Yaser’s expression softening for the first time. "I know we barely talk… I’m always at work so there’s rarely an opportunity for you to like me. I wish you do but I’m not forcing you to do anything you don’t want. All I’m saying is, give this place a chance."

“I’ll be honest, Yaser.” Zayn shakes his head. “Me, you, Elisa… We stand out. A lot. We’re South Asians in Beaufort. Elisa especially. So I’m sorry if my general attitude right now isn’t the greatest. And if you weren’t a high-ranking officer who’s petty or whatever, people would be looking at us way worse.”

“I know all about that.” Yaser tells him with a big grin on his face. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to let them affect my way of life because I’m not here for them. I’m here for my work which I take immense pride in. And the only thing I care about in this town is my family. Do what you have to do—as long as you’re not getting yourselves into trouble.”

Doesn't mean living in this town stops sucking. But there’s truth in Yaser’s voice that Zayn agrees with, and he goes off to school that day with a better mind.

* * *

Days go by, the gossip from the party continues and there's new rumours spurring around about Zayn and how he called Yaser home to clear the house on the night of the party. That's not what happened. But they look at Zayn with an even colder scowl from time to time or ignore his existence. The second one is the best choice for everyone because he doesn't want to look back at anyone he crosses paths way.

To be quite honest, he hates that there are rumours going around about him. Leaving him alone because he's antisocial is fine, but ignoring him because he did something wrong when he didn't is another story. This goes to show how everyone at the school are all sheep who follow one another.

What's annoying him the most isn't the crowd from school paying no attention to him. It was knowing he and Elisa weren't on the right page to hang at school so they both avoid each other at school and at home.

The only presence that became normal was Niall's. After that night in the cemetery, they slowly hung out more at school. Never after school because Niall has to pick his sister up from school and finish some things at home. Sometimes Griffin or that ginger red haired girl Kayla or Frank joined them. Although it seemed like they were only around for Niall.

From time to time, they'd tease Zayn about Niall and Olivia, make it something more than what it's supposed to be. He didn't like hearing anything about Niall and Olivia—the school’s favourite angel—especially when he was there. His face heats up, his cheeks darken in red, and he's left to try and save every bit of dignity he has to try and explain that he’s just eating something really spicy even though his tolerance is really high. Niall easily laughs it off just because he can. Zayn has to swallow it down and roll his eyes.

He believed he could easily trick his own mind not to like Niall. If he’s being honest, people are forcing all the good thing’s about Niall onto him, even without doing it intentionally. It usually happens when they talk about Olivia and Niall, and Griff is usually the one who nudges him and asks what he thinks about them. Because people are teasing him about Niall, his brain thinks about it a lot like there’s something deeper behind it all.

It’ll start with Griff feeding everyone ideas about Niall being a great boyfriend to Olivia, then Zayn will start to think on his own and how Niall has a really soft masculine scent which probably comes from his cologne, how stupidly cute he looks when he’s laughing where the corner of his eyes crinkle and the lines of his smile become visible. And he'll catch himself eventually before he tells himself that whatever he’s thinking, no one will ever find out except Zayn himself.

But then again, this isn’t something he wants to accept. Zayn cannot find himself to like Niall in any romantic way. There were reasons listed in the back of his mind with things like:

  1. His accent: it's too much
  2. There's an ulterior motive on why he hangs out with me a lot (find out quick)
  3. Country boy
  4. Persistent
  5. Loves attention
  6. Accent again



They weren't real valid reasons for his brain to agree with except the second one. His brain took them as more of a warning and threw it back in the closet. So, every time Niall and Zayn discussed hanging out after he drops his sister off and finishes his homework, Zayn would argue with him and say no, yet deep down—he’s willing to go, even if everything felt suspicious. Especially with Griffin. There’s just something about him from the first day they met.

"Listen Frank, are you coming or not?" Zayn groaned as he slumped. They were standing in a circle just outside of the school, discussing the plans that Niall made. He wanted to go watch a movie. At first, everyone was going—and then they flopped all of the sudden.

"No!" He huffed. "I told you. I got stuff to do. And then Kayla told me she's got work and Griffin's got... Other things."

"Okay, so it just me and Nigel? You guys are so flaky." Zayn rolled his eyes to Niall—he was standing beside Frank in his black Levi’s skinny jeans and tan suede jacket. "What stuff does Griffin have?"

"Uh... Not sure." Frank shrugged.

Niall suddenly slapped Zayn’s shoulder. "Stop callin' me Nigel. It sounds ugly."

At first it was all five of them hanging out, most often four. Quickly, it went down to two. Excuses after excuses from the three others not being able to come, Zayn was left to hang out with Niall all the time. 

Today, they're on a field trip that had nothing to do with anything educational. All there is to it is to go to the Harvest festival up north in Johnson Farms. It's a three hour and a half drive, a hair away from touching the border of North Carolina. Now it sounds stupid, and it is—but if there's a chance he could get an apple pie out of this trip, he's going to take that chance. 

And ditched like always, he and Niall are going to be stuck with one another until they're done picking apples. Who knows how long that is? The farm stretched beyond Zayn's eyesight. The leaves of the tree were slowly falling onto the grass where all the other unfortunate apples were. Yet, there were plenty to pick from and Zayn really wanted to grab all he can, convince somebody to bake him a pie in case he finishes the one he'll buy today too fast.

He brought along his camera with him to build up his portfolio for this winter. He neglected it completely for the past three months. He’s got his basket hanging from his elbows as he turns his head left and right, eye scanning for a good shot of the apple trees. The shutter goes off a couple of times as he captures a shot from under the tree, along with a few others that Zayn is thinking about destroying right away when he gets home. He favours his film camera so he tends to brings it with him more often than his DSLR camera.

Maybe it wasn’t on purpose when he aimed his camera on Niall and decided to take a picture of him trying to reach for an apple that’s way too high for him. And even he can’t lie to himself and say it isn’t a good shot.

Niall groans loudly before giving up on his pursuit of the fruit, but gives Zayn a mischievous smile. "I bet I can pick more apples than you."

"Why is that your bet?" Zayn grimaces. “And what’s at stake?”

Niall explains animatedly—uses his free hand to gesture at the both of them. "I believe we're both competitive in nature and—" 

"Hey Niall! Can you help a gal out?" Olivia calls him over.

Zayn believes she’s the student council president; though he’s not quite certain because he never listens to the announcements or looks at the posters promoting spirit week events. But he’s heard lots of good things about her; how she’s organized, happy all the time, and gets along with everybody since she’s personable. Several classmates of theirs were a few feet away who all must be her friends, including Griff and Kayla. Niall joins them, and Zayn rolls his eyes and quickly makes his way to a different tree, far from his classmates.

He tries not to kick the apples on the ground, tries even harder not to step on one. From just the subtle and earthy smell of the apples, he can already tell that if his mom was here, she'd enjoy this. Carolina entirely, she'd like it. She'd force Zayn out the house just to get him to join in on her adventure of exploring Beaufort before planning an entire road trip across the state. She'd like how sunny it is all the time and how everything just feels so free. 

He can tell that if she was here, then maybe he'd give this place a chance. Right now, in a place where he feels like he has nothing to connect with, there were no chances to spare. Even connecting with this goddamned farm, he's connecting with it through his mom who's not even here. And it just made him a whole lot irritated—more than before.

And New York now, it just feels so far. He can't remember Brooklyn anymore or the sounds of the streets at 2am. There were many gems the borough had that Zayn can't remember anymore. It had a different kind of freedom this place can't recreate or offer him. Zayn can forget many things about Brooklyn, but he'll never forget that.

He can hear footsteps rustling over the leaves and grass getting louder towards his way. "Hey! You walked off on me." Niall tells him. "And you got a head start. That's cheatin'."

"Well, I'm going back." Zayn snaps an apple off its branch. He can pick more apples, but all his family is going to be eating for the next week would be apples then.

"I ain't even get one apple to pick!" Niall is still swinging his empty basket around. “Olivia kept talking to me about the band which is nice. But I'm s’pose to be pickin' apples!”

"Guess I win this bet." Zayn shrugs.

"We ain't shake on it." Niall argues. “So it don’t count.”

"So now it's not a bet?" Scoffing, Zayn starts to even show off his basket full of apples.

"I'm losin'. Of course not!" Niall huffs as he grabs Zayn's basket. "Fine. What's at stake?"

"You buy me food." That's a good wager. He likes food and loves not paying for it.

Out of nowhere, he feels Niall’s arm around his shoulder. "Are you coercing me into a date, Zayn?" He teased him in that little hush voice that amplified his accent.

"Are you whack?" Zayn asks. "I said buy me food. Not take me out on a date."

"Fair enough, darling." Niall clicks his tongue; his arm is still around Zayn. That's a new record. Zayn never lets anyone touch him. "You'll get your food."

“Good. I’ll take 20 piece nuggets, a double cheeseburger, and a skor-oreo mcflurry from McDonald’s.”

As long as it's not apples. He'd like to cash in his winnings with great food. He's thinking about the comfort sea-food restaurant right at the wharf back in Beaufort. It's amazingly delicious—probably the best sea food he's eaten so far in his life. But he won't let this place win just yet.

“On second thought, never mind.” Niall grips the curve of Zayn’s shoulder really hard before hanging his arm over it. “Because that’s just way too unhealthy!”

“It's cheap!” Zayn argues.

“I don’t give a damn.” Niall exclaims. “I’d rather spend $50 to feed you than $10 for you to get high blood.”

"Then you can get your arm off." Zayn looks at Niall’s arm over his shoulder. There's freckles all over—a few darker ones dotted along his arm, kind of like beauty marks.

“No way, buddy." Niall muses. “Get used to me.”

His grip tightened, bringing Zayn closer into Niall. No one was around to see it except the two of them strolling around the apple trees. Zayn looked over at Niall from the corner of his eyes, wondering what this is all supposed to mean. As he wanted to ask, he let his head turn the other way, let naivety take over instead. He didn't need answers as much as this wasn't what it looks like.

* * *

There was a sudden shift in the weather the later it got into November. The leaves have also turned colours and fallen onto the ground. Every step, you could hear leaves crunching below your foot, see that trees are left with nothing but their branches. Zayn's got his scarf out and wool jacket already. He’s feeling overdressed walking into the school, seeing everyone in just a sweater or thin rain jacket. The scarves aren't even out yet.

His photography assignment for the month was to compile 10 photos of life through his eyes—from what he likes, what his morning routine is, what cereal he eats. It's a nice project, until Zayn starts to pick at everything he does, unsure if it reaches anybody's standards of living such as his bed—is he supposed to make his bed now or leave it as it always is? His teacher would like it if he left everything as is, until he sees Zayn's unmade bed and starts to think why his student is so messy.

He's got the weekend to work on this which is all he needs. But he starts off with one photo in class of his legs extending out lazily as he's sitting. He normally doesn't wear boots—it's just for today. He didn't drive today and biked instead. And that's because Yaser might have heard about his fight with Elisa so he has revoked his keys until he apologizes. Like that's going to work. He is sorry but he's still right about all those things he said about her making stupid excuses just so Zayn could have a social life, bringing his mom into this. She has nothing to do with him not wanting to tell anybody anything.

If anyone is to blame, it’s the kids at school, and maybe it's him too. Nobody here would ever think Zayn would be the guy everyone looked at in high school. Here, he's the irrelevant kid from New York. Back in the city, he was more than relevant at school. It didn't make Yaser happy, Elisa didn't know much about what was happening because he never hung out with her, and Zayn couldn't care less until he moved here to this dead city where nobody knows him or knew of him. He sort of liked it.

He biked along the edge of the road where there was no real sidewalk or bike lane. Cars passed him way too fast for the law, caused him to hold back sticking his middle finger up at the high school kids driving their dad's car. It didn't take long for another car to pass him, and all of the sudden just stop a few feet away from him. He didn't know anybody with an old Ford truck. Not until they popped his head out the window and Zayn could barely keep his comment.

"You're a real country boy for driving that scrap!" Zayn laughs. It was a truck like in the movies. It's got a classic red paint job that's wearing out.

"Not everyone can afford an Audi." Niall puffs.

"Do you see me driving one?" Zayn extends his arms out to the side. All he had to speak for him was his yellow touring bike.

"You would if your daddy bought ya one. Why are you biking?"

"He took my keys." Zayn shrugs. Something about how he has to apologize to Elisa. Zayn said no, which is why Yaser is furious with him.

"Do you want a ride then?" Niall asks.

"Is it going to break down anytime soon? I think I'll have a hernia pushing this down."

"Okay, good luck walkin'!" Niall pulls his e-break, and his truck suddenly jerks. 

"Wait!" Zayn intervenes. He puts his bike in the back of the truck before hoping inside the truck. He's so infuriating sometimes.

Thankfully, the ride is only five minutes, so Zayn wouldn't have to be in the truck with Niall for more than ten minutes in his most countrified form. The truck really sets the image and Zayn can barely contain his laughter. Even deep into fall, he's wearing khaki shorts, a burnt orange mock zip-up sweater, and white converses like it's a summer afternoon. Pick a weather to dress with!

Zayn expected his truck to smell like gasoline and beer for some reason. He should just cut his expectations altogether since his car smells like fabric softener, there’s completely no trace of garbage anywhere, and he’s even got cool dog-tags hanging from his mirror with the name ‘Kainer’ and the years 1968-1974 engraved. He couldn't see the first name and he doesn't try to.

"What is this?" Zayn finally tunes into the music that's been playing since he got in the truck. It was a soft-rock song sung by a soft female vocalist with a velvety and warm sound. It must be playing on his truck's cassette player.

"Dreams by Fleetwood Mac." Niall explains. “Stevie Nicks.”

"I'm gonna change it." Zayn's finger is just about to push on the shop button until Niall slapped his hand away, huffs as if Zayn insulted him. He probably did—Zayn's not sure what this song means to Niall anyway.

"This is my truck! I'm in charge of music." Niall's hand covers the controls of the cassette player before he cautiously put his hand back on the wheel. “And you’re not changin' this song.”

"You're in charge of driving. I'm in charge of navigation and music." Zayn explains. That's how it works everywhere.

"Is that how they do it in the Yankees?" Niall winces.

"Brooklyn!" Zayn exclaims. "And they do this everywhere!"

"That's stupid." Niall huffs.

"And you’re taking a really long time getting to my house. We should've been there by now." He doesn't even recognize this road and he only drives to three places: his school, his house, and the coffee shop.

"We aren't going by your place." Niall looks at him, then gives a fake smile.

"What?" 

"I gotta pay off my debt." 

Zayn didn't think he'd actually keep his promise. It wasn't something he held against him. Hell, they didn’t even shake on it. That's the first from anyone.

"Where are we going then?" Zayn looks around to see if he recognizes all this greenery and flatland. Nope.

"My house!" Niall says with excitement.

* * *

Niall lives in a small house. Smaller than his but maybe good enough for Zayn's family if they didn't want such a big house. And then there was his yard—it was bigger than the amount of space his house took. Right out the back was a fence with five chickens and their coop. Niall has chickens. Of course Niall has chickens—and a dog, and a garden full of vegetables.

His dog's name is Spud; his full name is Sputnik, based on the Russian space satellite or rocket—it’s one of those things. He's a young black lab, and he seems to be growing really fast. He likes to play with the chickens that are outside his backyard. He's got them fenced up to protect them from wolves and other wild animals. 

"Are we eating one of them tonight?" Zayn laughs as he perches his arms against the wooden beam holding up the chickens’ fence. Niall's inside, trying to sneak up on one.

"Yeah." Niall answers. His hands grab the one sitting down under the sun.

Zayn stops laughing. "I was kidding." He grimaces nervously.

"I ain’t." He picks it up no problem, carrying it like a baby in his arms.

"Seriously?" Zayn's eyebrows raise.

"I'm cooking dinner tonight. You’re not vegetarian, right?"

"Well no, but can't you make shrimp and grits instead? I haven’t tried it before." He also didn't want to watch the murder of a chicken, despite his love for chicken. Especially one physically so close to him.

"What?" Niall exclaims and the chicken flies out of his arms. "You're in for a treat! I'll make that tonight instead. I've got the best grits in Beaufort."

"Everyone here says that, don't they?" 

"I use homemade chicken broth, smoked cheddar cheese and fresh butter from the farm. Can't get any better than that."

"And the shrimps?" Zayn asks. 

"Fresh from the market. They catch'em daily and paw's friend just gave us half a kilo of it." Zayn assumes paw is grandpa.

"Cool." Zayn's mildly impressed. Just mildly.

He doesn't know how to cook so this idea of knowing ingredients and directions on the top of his head was impressive. Never learned, never been taught. That's why he buys most of his food already made. It's a really bad investment to be just buying food instead of making it. On the plus side, he uses Yaser's military discount. By law and paper, he is Yaser's kid.

Until they went inside his house, Zayn didn't think about Niall’s grandparents. Right when they walk in front of the back door leading into the kitchen, Niall’s greeted by his grandma and sister who must’ve stayed home today since Niall didn’t need to pick her up from school. A kiss on his cheek from grandma and an adorable, "Niall!" from his sister—even too much for Zayn to not find it disgusting. Disgustingly cute is what it is though.

And it was the awkward meet and greet from then on. They were polite in ways that scared Zayn; he isn’t used to being blatantly called handsome man by old women and he wasn't used to saying hi to little kids either. They never come across Zayn; usually leaving to go to their rooms, never to be seen again.

Niall’s sister had short curly hair down to her ears, missing front tooth, and eyelashes Elisa would be envious for. She wore light washed denim overalls filled with sewed-shut rips with a yellow striped t-shirt under. She acknowledged Zayn with a big smile he isn’t used to getting.

“Ma' name's Dallas. Dally for short. Are you rich? You’re from New York, ain’t ya? Ma' brother says you’re from Brooklyn. That makes you rich.” She looks up at him with her head tilted back. If Zayn thought Niall's accent strong, his sister's makes him sound like he’s from Queens.

There’s a loud gasp from Niall’s grandma. “Dally, your manners! You can’t be askin' strangers if they’re rich.”

“Well, I need money!” She exclaims. “Pardon me.” Then she adds, “Please!”

Zayn accidentally laughs and waves his hands side to side. “Wait, why?”

“My teacher says bees are dying. I wanna buy a bee bath for our garden so they can drink water and not die.”

“Why don’t you just make one?” Niall sighs as if he’s heard this a hundred times from her.

“Make one?” Dallas yells. “I still need money for that.” She looks back at Zayn. “Do you have a dollar?”

“I'll do you one better and give you two.” Zayn pulls out two crumpled dollar bills he was going to use to buy a snack from the cafeteria tomorrow.

“I like you.” Dallas giggles quietly and ran off to the living room to colour her drawings.

His grandma left the kitchen too, leaving Zayn and Niall to fend for themselves in there.

“You ain’t have to do that.” Niall shakes his head.

“She's a nice kid.” Zayn grimaces.

“Not like that. She scammed you. We already have a bee bath.” Niall tries to hold his laughter as he hands Zayn two dollars from his pocket. “You fell for it so easily.”

Zayn bursts out laughing. “She's good.”

Niall’s capable enough to handle whatever the kitchen hands him. There’s a hundred things he's pulling out from the fridge and he’s not reading anything off a piece of paper. This massive dinner plan is all in his head. And then there's Zayn who doesn't understand what cleaning and shucking the shrimp means. 

"Runnin' it under water don’t make it clean." Niall takes the bowl of shrimp from Zayn.

"I wasn't exactly given a manual to do this."

"Like this." Niall shows Zayn a whole shrimp like he's never seen one before. He pulls the shell off, along with the tail and tosses it aside. After, he takes a pairing knife, and slices the shrimp open from the bottom, and pulls out the vein.

"And this one..." He does the same against the spine; this time the vein from what seems to be the spine is darker and thicker. "Is actually poop."

"Wow. Classy." And he has to do half a kilo of it? Great.

The T.V. played in the background as they prepared dinner, but Niall played his music instead. Classic rock and country like always. Zayn will go completely nuts if he heard today's country music. Back then it sounded more rock than country. Today, it's just stupid songs about cheating and tractors.

After deveining the shrimp, Zayn was left with nothing to do but to grate the cheese over a cutting board. Niall took over the hard part since it is his bet he's paying off. Zayn sat on one of the stools at the island counter, not too far from the kitchen so he can see everything Niall is doing. And then there's his dog, Spud spinning around back and forth on the same spot. Every step he makes, his nails click against the hardwood floor.

"You're starin'." Niall’s voice brings Zayn back into reality. He blinks, realizing his eyes were right on Niall—his head tilted.

"I wasn't." Zayn shakes his head and straightens his posture, forcing his eyes down on the table. Like that's going to prove his point.

"Okay." Niall snorts quietly. He doesn't seem to believe Zayn; and Zayn doesn't care enough to fight it.

"Okay." Zayn shakes his head forward. 

Once it got quiet again and it was just the sound of onions and garlic sizzling in butter and cheese grating against sharp edges, Zayn couldn’t help but relax and stare out in the yard before he eventually asks Niall, “Where’d you learn to cook? Like, really cook?”

“Sometimes my ma and pa can’t cook so I do when they’re tired.” Niall explains as he dashes salt and pepper over the shrimps. “And my ma ain’t like no food that ain’t done from scratch so I had to learn.”

Then Niall went on about how ingredients are sacred things of the earth and how people should respect them. That’s what his pa told him, who learned it from his Cherokee friend, and he takes it to heart as he's washing the green onions he plucked from his backyard.

“Do you know how to cook?” Niall asks this time. He’s got another pot going—boiling with hot water. He pours in his bowl of washed green beans in and throws a dash of salt in again.

“Yeah. It’s basic chemistry. I don’t cook nice meals like you, though.” Zayn reaches for dark red apple in the fruit bowl that’s sitting on the countertop. It looks way too good to be a real fruit. “If I had all the patience in the world, I'd make an awesome roast.”

“I hope I'm still around when you decide to finally cook.” Niall points his wooden spoon at Zayn.

“What do you mean, still around?” Zayn raises his brows. “Are you dying?”

“Zayn, it ain’t polite asking someone if they dying,” Despite that, Niall's laughing at Zayn. “But no, am not dying. At least, I don’t plan to soon. It's all in god's plan.”

“So what do you mean?”

“If we’re still friends a year from now.” Niall's got the chicken broth boiling and pours in the grits to simmer. When he finishes stirring the grits and broth together, he turns back to Zayn with a growing expression of realization. “Like, what if I become a rock star and you join the Navy or somethin'?”

“I would never.” Zayn winces in confusion. “After seeing my stepdad, I… It's not my lifestyle.”

“You never know. In a year, lots of things could change. Maybe, instead of being a rock star, I'd be married to the love of my life.” Niall's voice is even laced with excitement Zayn's never had for himself in a long time. It's nice to hear.

“Then it won’t be any different than right now because you're already a rock star in this town.”

“Why, thank you.” Niall laughs.

Zayn set up plates and cutlery for dinner on the dining table. Once Niall had finished the grits, he poured it all into a massive bowl to set on the middle of the table. Zayn watched him fix all the plates and utensils for each seat after Zayn set it all up wrong; he didn’t know there was a right way. Niall insisted he do nothing else for the evening so he sat back watching him. Zayn wanted free food, not the whole southern hospitality thing that they do.

There was more than just the shrimp and grits. There were collard greens, mash, corn, and gravy all laid out across the table. How did he do this all in two hours? He didn't think Niall would go all out for dinner. It was just a dinner based on a bet.

"We have so much food."

He counted eight plates and there were only five of them that were going to be sitting at the table. Until Niall started bringing in more chairs.

"I invited Frank, Kayla, and Griffin over too."

Oh. That's why. Zayn nods continuously. He thought it was just going to be Niall and his family. It bothered him a little. But it's good that they're all coming over for dinner. Even with Niall's family, they wouldn't be able to finish it all.

By 6, everyone was seated at the table. Kayla arrived first, then Griffin and Frank came together, still in gym clothes for some reason—they might have just come from ball practice.

Dinner started off with a short prayer. This wasn't something he could skip out on. Niall's grandpa made everyone hold hands, so he was holding Niall's hand on his left and Frank on his right. The minute prayer felt long. It only felt like that because their eyes were shut and it was silence for everyone except Niall's grandpa who blessed the food and company. Without realizing it until the end, he was holding Niall's hand really tight. And so was Niall; it felt like Niall knew it was odd of them to hold hands so Zayn refrained from opening his left eye to look at Niall, who must've been smiling at the entire idea. It was a quick Amen at the end and Zayn grabbed his hand back.

Dinner was quiet besides the clattering of utensils against plates and some light conversations between Niall’s sister and their grandma. It was his utensils clattering the most. This is the best seafood dish he's had so far. Often, seafood is really hard to cook and have someone actually like it.

"Remember last thanksgiving, there were alligators in Beaufort's foyer?" Kayla starts off this really odd conversation.

"What?" Zayn asks.

"Yeah." Frank laughs, food in the corner of his mouth. "I hear he's bringing in pigeons this year and filling the halls with bird feed so they’d swarm in.”

"Connor's going to get expelled one day." Niall shakes his head.

"An alligator?" Zayn repeats. Wait—Kayla said alligators. Plural.

"Baby alligators." Griffin explains. "There were buckets of them put in the entrance all loose, so they closed the school trying to collect them all. No one would even dare open the doors to the foyer."

"That's a bit too much." Zayn scoffs.

"At least no one got hurt." Frank tries to counter back. It doesn't matter when that prank can easily escalade to many more problems.

"Did anyone do anything crazy back in your school?" Kayla asks. “Like rub peanut butter on every doorknob?” 

"No. No." Zayn replies really quickly. There was no thought in it—even Niall's eyebrow raises at the rapid reply.

"Really?" Griffin asks.

Zayn wipes his mouth with a napkin just before he leans back in his seat. "Well, there was this big story going around about a guy who got kicked out of school because he got in a fight."

"Why'd they fight?" Niall asks just as he swallows his food.

"He was having a rough time." Zayn shrugs. "Kind of pressed on him at a really bad moment. His mom died around the time, so they thought it would be funny to make a joke out of it."

"That's not nice." Niall observes the obvious.

"That's worse than alligators gettin' loose." Kayla says under her breath. It sounds like she's on Zayn’s side. He’s just not sure yet.

"People in the city must be cultured like that." Griff shakes his head. “Always roughhousing. Ain’t nobody think there, I reckon.”

Zayn’s eyes never rolled so hard than they did when he replies to Griffin. "Fights happen everywhere. It’s not just the city."

"I know that. I'm just saying citified folks always get themselves into so many fights. Battery Creek only had history of fightin' because of them city kids from California, no offence.”

"That's actually the stupidest thing I've heard." Zayn gets up from his seat, carrying his empty plate to the kitchen.

Griffin is always talking out of his ass about things he doesn't know. Besides Frank, it's not like they know for certain how the city is like because they didn't live there. The city is full of shitty people, but there's also many great people who'll pay for your coffee in Starbucks or provide entertainment on the subway platform for people who’s days are feeling like shit.

Despite his new-found annoyance for Griffin, Zayn stays after finishing his dinner. Even feeling so generous, he washes the plates dropped off in the sink by everyone. Niall almost lost his mind watching Zayn scrubbing down plates; he didn't really mind. He would just rather be far from Griffin right now. 

Dessert was blonde brownies Kayla made. Basically, it's a cookie dough form of a brownie, instead of it all just being chocolate. And the way she made it, it was if it was fudge right in the middle—Zayn was practically dying in goodness.

Zayn stayed later while Griffin, Kayla, and Frank went home right after finishing their slices of blondie brownies. Niall is his ride, and he would've thought he'd get a ride as soon as his friends left. Zayn didn't want to press on him about it—if Niall didn't want to go just yet, he won't think about it. It was sunset by then when they sat on Niall's backyard porch overlooking his yard with the gated chicken coops, clothes hanger, and willow trees. There was a faint wind, nothing bothering about it. Zayn was already in a black zipped hoodie and Niall changed into a tan wool sweater, jeans, and boots.

"Do you hate it here?" Niall asks, throwing Spud's tennis ball across the yard for him to fetch or wrestle with, whichever one.

"I don't hate it." Zayn explains. "There's just nothing to do. Everything closes so early, and this town is—" He shrugs. "Not fun. And racist.”

Niall nods. Does he understand or is he just nodding to say he heard Zayn? "They're different, that's all. Ain't mean one is better than the other." No, he definitely heard him. “But for the racist part—they definitely are. I'll attest to that. If anyone says something to you or Elisa, let us know, you hear?”

"Yeah..." Zayn nods. He's glad Niall heard him out. They both have different point of views about everything. Seemingly, everything they don't agree with, just means they agree in something else beyond what the surface shows.

In a new-found excitement, Niall breaks into a wide smile as he moves closer to Zayn. "Tell me about New York. I've never been to a big city like Manhattan."

Spud comes back with the ball and drops it over the ground before resting his head on Zayn’s knee.

"Sure." Zayn laughs quietly as he strokes Spud's head. "It's a very big city, filled with lots of families who immigrated for new opportunities. My great-great grandparents from my mom's side moved there first. It's really smelly and humid, not to mention very congested. But it's nice. Hard to believe but it is."

"Maybe in the summer we can go visit?”

Right. How can he entirely forget that this is their last year of high school and that they'll all be moving on with different things? He hasn't even started thinking about university—he isn't sure if he wants to go anyway.

"What do you wanna do after all of this is over?" Zayn asks.

"Not sure. Maybe attend a school here.”

"Don't wanna leave South Carolina?"

"No." He shrugs. "I don't know. I think I'll miss home too much.

Zayn doesn't know what right is anymore. He's lost that idea coming here; now it's like he's static—living without a sense of mind.

"Will you go back to New York?" Niall asks.

That's a good idea. Maybe he can find Ryan and kick his ass for never writing back. "Maybe. I've got friends to go back to."

"Hypothetically, what if you fall in love with someone in a new city...? Would ya stay for them?" Niall asks. “Just wondering because love, you know, it’s always the game changer for everything. ‘Am only asking ‘cause I've been watching too many romantic movies with my cousin and they always seem to stay.

In confusion, his brows furrowed in. "Would you?"

"I'm already here. Just like my mama was. She stayed for my father who eventually left town." He shrugs. “So I’ve got nowhere to go really.

Zayn knows Niall didn’t mean to turn the whole mood upside down; but Zayn can’t help but hurt a little hearing about Niall’s father leaving his mom. "So am I. Technically, I just got here. Don’t think it’s right for me to just leave—and I can’t believe I’m saying that." He laughs.

Zayn lives here. And just because university life is coming up next year, doesn't mean Yaser would let him go off on his own with support. For all he knows, Yaser would financially support him to go to university on the condition that he only stay in-state. He doesn't even know anything about this state, let alone its universities.

Niall can talk for long. If you leave him alone with a stranger, there's a slight chance they'll become good acquaintances in the next ten minutes. He can make people feel comfortable no matter how much Zayn wants to hold back on his answers. He gives Niall subtle answers, enough to let him know just a little bit more of what's on the surface without giving all of himself. And he feels okay—maybe nervous being so close to him, talking about stuff he never openly spoke about to his old friends—safe is the word.

* * *

It's been months since he heard from Ryan or any of his friends back in Brooklyn. Shit, it's probably for the best. Nothing good ever came from the boys. Standing from his locker, he's watching Frank, Griffin, Kayla and Niall talking about something supposedly fun at the end of the hall. They were all laughing together like if it was an inside joke they made in the weekend. A weekend he'd like to hear about. But it might be a joke Zayn’s not welcome to hear about.

He dreads this walk. It feels long than it should. Holding his backpack strap, he grips it hard—until his knuckles turn white. And before he knows it, he's there standing as awkward as he is.

"Hi." He says quietly.

"Hey!" Frank suddenly lights up. "Did you do the history homework?"

"Sort of." Zayn grins awkwardly. "I did four questions and gave up."

"Now I don't feel so bad." Frank exhales with his shoulders relaxing as well.

"But you ain't ever do your homework anyway." Kayla adds on. 

"If it ain't being graded, I ain't doing it."

"Ain't that the truth." Griffin holds out his hand before Frank firmly shakes it.

"No! You do it because it's supposed to be good practice for you." Niall scoffs.

"Homework is not like dark chocolate or antioxidants. Can't be  _that_  good for me." Frank shakes his head.

Frank is an idiot—an observant idiot who is right for one thing. Homework is a pain; but it's both subjective and something new he's been doing for a few months now.

Sometimes he'll complete it all before class, sometimes he'll finish right before the next period. He'll really only do the ones with a heavy percentage on his final grade, easy ones he can finish in class without actually trying, and ones that need to be collected. Whatever that doesn't count in there, his decision will waver on whether he'll finish it or not. Most often, he won't even give a second thought on doing it.

"But you guys are coming tonight, right?" Frank asks.

"Yeah." They all say except one who's contemplating whether or not to leave.

"I have work but my spirit is there." Griff shares with the group.

"Where...?" Zayn asks hesitantly and they all look at him.

"Small gig at the Red House." Niall hands him a flyer. He's seen these flyers around town—just didn't recognize that it was Niall's band.

"The pub?" Zayn lifts a brow. Aren't pubs usually only adults?

"One hour. We get paid free chicken wings and bottomless drinks. Sodas, not beer. We're minors—we don’t drink...” Niall says the last part in a monotone and sarcastic voice. “So let me know! They won’t let you in if we aren’t with you." An understandable idea as to why that's a great deal. Everyone loves free food. Technically, it's not even free. "I know you don't like live music because it's too loud—"

"Doesn't mean I won't watch you play." Zayn defends. This is about not being invited.

"So you'll come?" Niall grins.

"I want chicken wings too." And they better have some good barbecue flavoured wings.

“Good! Bring your camera!”

He wasn't there solely for chicken wings. For one thing, he really needed to go out there and do something besides staying home with Data, watching T.V. shows, and working at the coffee shop. Back in Brooklyn, he used to stay after school just to watch his friend rehearse for some musical if it meant he could sit at the back of the auditorium and secretly laugh with his other friends about a scene.

The bar is small and full of people way older than he is—that's all Zayn could see from the window. He made his way in, knowing he's a little early for the show.

"I.D. please." The man at the door blocked the way, knowing that this boy approaching him was no more than 20 years old. He's 17, but everyone seems to think he's older than his actual age. He didn't know there would be bouncers here. It's not like it's a place he'd want to sneak into anyway.

"I'm just here to watch the band. They're my friends." He explains. "I don't drink."

"Still can't let you in." He shakes his head.

The annoying part is that he really is early for the show and can't slip by. The parking lot only has 6 cars, meaning everyone who's here is already inside. That also means Niall and his stupid band isn't here yet.

How long does it take for them to set up? They start in half an hour. And funny, he's first to arrive. Why even do a gig where they can't even get in? Maybe it's a band thing, Zayn doesn't really know. All he knows is that if they have other friends who want to watch, they can't for tonight.

Niall's truck pulls in quickly with Travis, Gary, Kayla, and Sam seated in the back, the band holding their packed instruments with their life. Sam would've flew out if it weren't for Gary holding her by the shoulder of her jacket. The truck jerks forward before it finally stops, and Travis shoots up from his spot.

"Zayn, glad you can make it!" Travis extends his arms out to the side as Frank slams the passenger door shut—his face twisted in annoyance.

"Yeah." Zayn exhales quietly, watching the whole band jumping out the truck, squirrelling around for their instruments and gear.

All of them were hauling their stuff in through the front door with Frank seriously struggling with the drum sets that Gary should be bringing in—that's his stuff of course.

"Is he with you?" The bouncer asked Niall.

"Yeah." Niall has a grin on his face. Zayn's already starting to worry. "He's our photographer."

How did Niall know about his photography hobby?

"You don't have to do anything." Niall tells him when they get inside the bar. "But it would be awesome if you take some for our photo diary? If it’s no trouble."

"You do diaries?" Zayn lifts a brow. It's just that video diaries are done by big bands for their fans and well, all they sing are covers and a few original pieces to small crowds the size of a typical wedding—that just about explains their placement.

"No. This'll be our first one." Niall starts to bite down on his bottom lip. "Elisa told me you do photography."

Not for a while has he done anything photography related.

What's hard is that his subjects are all real-life now. They're not just inanimate objects that stay still when he needs them to be. They were all moving about, setting up the instruments, tuning them to sound right on key. He couldn't tell them to stay still, even when Frank's all awkward with the camera in his face. Candid is always the way to go.

The hardest one was Niall. There was something about him that made it difficult to capture a decent photo. Maybe it was his fault for moving before the photo focused. Although he never had that problem with anyone. Tonight, his voice was soft as always, with a touch of rasp that didn't graze the songs too hard like Axel Rose or Little Richard. But it's versatile that he could do any kind of version or style for a song and it'll make the hairs on your arm stand and bring your mind into a trance.

Their setlist was full of songs Zayn's never heard. They were all blues and old country rock songs Zayn has vaguely heard of it. Yet, just because Zayn doesn’t know anything the band’s playing tonight, doesn’t mean he wasn’t enjoying it like the whole pub.

There’s something about the way Niall performs that pulls the audience to feel the song the same way he’s feeling it. Whether or not he’s talking to the audience about their band or performing, they make everyone feel like home. That’s why everyone feels comfortable enough to dance and sing along—and they can’t help do anything but. And by the end, it was something new—a song that's never met an audience before until tonight.

"I wrote this song last year, and it’s about enjoying your own company. I sound lonely, but that’s okay. We all need some time to ourselves, don’t we?” Niall wipes his face as he leans into the mic. "Hope you guys like it."

And he stepped back, counting down to the band before they can start playing the surprisingly upbeat intro. 

Picture after picture, everything just kept getting repetitive. There wasn't much he can do walking around from side to side, and then the front.

 _Everybody's got somebody_  
_I just wanna be alone_  
_Well I don't need no one_  
_Have too much fun_  
_Out here on my own_

Zayn stopped taking pictures, and he was just like everyone else in the audience, watching in excitement with their minds spinning. Niall wrote this song? How'd he manage to find all the right words to a song that many people feel that they need to do the opposite of which is to find someone to be with, instead of enjoying your own company and what you have at the moment?

 _I'll drink 'til it's empty_  
_Stay out 'til it's late!_  
_I wake up at midday and marry my bed_  
_I'll kiss all the women_  
_Get punched in the head_  
_You could offer the world, baby_  
_But I'll take this instead_

So maybe whatever this genre was didn’t suck after all. Not when Niall sings it, not when he makes the songs sound like a night where you’re running around town with a bottle of whiskey in your hand, passing it between four other people, seeing who can run across the open field in the park the fastest. That’s what Zayn felt as he watched Niall and the entire band putting their whole soul into this song. They were having so much fun and they were all so talented that it completely pulled Zayn away from taking photos for a solid two full minutes. The last minute, he was able to take a photo of them rocking out at the end of the song.

"You guys… Were great." Zayn smiles at Niall awkwardly as he watches him packing up his guitars. At the corner of the bar, there was a table reserved for them right by the stage.

"Thank you! Did'ya like my song?" Niall asks, grinning at Zayn as he stores his guitar in its case.

"Definitely a favourite." He wouldn't say no—even if it is some sort of folk-country song. Even if he was lying, Niall would already know. The tone of his voice will go up high.

They sat together after everyone loaded Niall's truck with their instruments. It was weird to be sitting at a bar, drinking coke and sprite when everyone else around them had pints and bottles. Zayn doesn't like the taste of beer but feeling so out of place, he'd drink that in an instant just to ease the weird anxious feeling of teenagers inside a bar full of adults.

"Let's see the pictures!" Sam exclaims. Travis, his barista trainer and Zayn—sitting together on a Saturday night, chilling. Nope, not weird at all.

"I've gotta get them developed first." Zayn shows them his film camera.

"You don't have those digital cameras?" Kayla asks. Obviously not right now. He was holding an old film camera.

"It's at home. And I like this one." He shakes his camera.

"If I ain't look good, throw them." Gary shakes his head.

"Narcissist. I want all of them." Travis hits Gary on his shoulder.

"Big word." Sam points out.

"Like your head." Gary blurts out. Immediately, Sam reaches across the table for her brother and everyone starts grabbing and waving their hand for it all to stop.

Zayn starts to laugh as he's covering his face from Sam and Gary's hands swinging across the table at each other. God, he really wants the chicken wings to come so bad—his stomach is going. Niall could probably hear it with the way he's looking at Zayn. Before they could eat, they had one of the servers take a picture of them altogether before the food could come.

Eventually, the wings arrived five minutes after the last photo of the group was taken. There were a lot to choose from—they had forty in total with five different flavours: buffalo, honey garlic, barbecue, and jerk. Everyone had about two each at first. By the time, Travis finished his first plate, he went ahead for more. It was a free for all after that. The bar was really kind to them; included a heavy plate of chorizo nachos. It was way too much for him with all the coke in his belly from the beginning.

All he wanted to do was develop the photos for the band. He felt really good about them. And his camera adds a certain character to the photos that digital cameras don't have. It's almost close to the quality of polaroid pictures except they're less expensive.

He got home close to midnight. Pass through his doors, he immediately went for the bathroom to brush his teeth and fell right over his bed with his clothes still on. Startled, Data jumped right off and got right back on the bed and laid atop on Zayn's back. Weird cat. Yet, exhaustion is so heavy, he'll let Data stay on top. Eventually, she'll get off and see something that Zayn can't—as ominous as it sounds.

It really is nothing.

* * *

 

Unfortunately, there’s another event to go to, and he couldn’t say no to Yaser. He wouldn't be happy about that. Then that'll be two people in his family who will be unimpressed with him. It's been two weeks since he and Elisa had an actual conversation. It was cold between them, even when Yaser is around. To avoid questions from him, they'd fake how they are with each other. In reality, it's been the opposite of good since Halloween.

Forced to wear formal attire, his family is attending a Remembrance Day memorial service at Beaufort park with a catered lunch at the hall. Standing there amongst the crowd, near the navy, in his white button down and grey dress pants, he didn't have much of an opinion on wars. Standing in silence with Yaser in uniform and Elisa in a bright yellow-orange dress, respect was what he was feeling. But the more he thought about it all, respect towards the military is subjective.

To these children standing alongside too, their parents are heroes in uniforms. Hard to realize somewhere on the other side, they were the enemies. At the end of the day, they've all killed someone indirectly and unknowingly.

Once it was all over, it was the awkward stand and wait game with him and Elisa as Yaser socialized with the officers he works with. They stood off to the side, pacing, looking around just to see people in the same uniform, with just more medals and stripes. He wouldn't have noticed Niall if it wasn't for Dallas pushing him to solve her rubix cube. 

"I didn't know you'd be here." Zayn tells Niall as he continues to twist and turn the cube.

"Yeah. My grandpa served in the air force so we come here every Remembrance Day memorial service.” Niall looks up with a smirk. “So that explains it, huh?”

“What?” Zayn asks, grimacing back at Niall. He has a weird look on his face.

“The moody, rebellious behaviour… Obviously a military brat.” Niall laughs quietly.

"Oh, and when I was just starting to like you..." Zayn gives Niall a dry smirk before he starts to back away, completely turning away from Niall after a few steps. He could hear Dallas giggling which made Zayn grin to himself.

All of the sudden, he could see his sister having a conversation with these girls from school. From where he's standing, it didn't look like a good one. Especially not for Elisa who looks like she’s being badgered at. With the girls cussing at Elisa, Zayn started walking their way. And halfway, he could hear Elisa telling them to leave her alone.

"What's going on?" Zayn asks straight away. Elisa is looking at him, begging not to intervene. Too late now, Niall joined in just to chase after him; but now he's stuck in the conversation too.

Right away, the other girl from their school smiles tightly at Zayn and Niall. "Nothing. We're all friends."

Taking a breath in, Zayn looks at Elisa, only to receive a cold eye-roll from her. "We're talking, Zayn. So if you can just go."

"How's it going, Niall?" The blonde girl in the navy blue dress smiles at him. They all know how to make a Remembrance Day memorable.

"Good." Niall replies and asks about their names. "Is it Perry and Taylor?"

"Yeah!" Eagerly, they nod at him. They must all love Niall. He’s the closest thing next to being famous in this town. Everyone else must be in Charleston or somewhere bigger than Beaufort.

"Yeah. Heard a lot about you guys, like the time you bullied a girl until she switched schools.” Niall’s lips twist in distaste just as Zayn’s eyes widened.

“What the hell?” Zayn grimaces.

“Yeah, you think you’re safe because she’s at Beaufort High now but you ain’t. We all know you two ain’t happy until you make someone feel miserable.” Niall continued to push on. It was only making Zayn angrier the longer he stared at these girls who look worse than nothing. Zayn would not look their way or even do a doubletake. They’re not worth it.

“Do you listen to every rumour that’s spread around school?” Perry crosses his arm. “I hear stuff about you too, but I don’t believe what they tell me.”

“I don’t care.” Niall scoffs. “Just leave'em alone.”

“So, you don’t wanna hear about how someone saw you hooking up with some guy at the Wetlands?”

“When?” Niall immediately grimaces. With the room in a quiet hush, they were all able to hear their conversation. When the words hooking up came out, they all turned their way in shock. “You spreading rumors about me?”

And one of those sets of eyes that turned was Yaser’s. Zayn intervenes immediately, pushing Niall away from the girls.

He could tell this wasn’t how Niall planned things to go when they stepped in to see what Elisa was going through. He turned to the girls and walked towards them until they started walking backwards.

“I’m saying this once—I better not see you near my sister so fuck off.” He stood there until they walked off to the washroom.

It's gotten almost everybody's attention that Yaser stepped in now. He was definitely angry.

He was only here to help Elisa out. Right now, she was holding his arm, trying to subtly tug him away. Nobody likes a scene. It just so happens it's always Zayn that makes one, and eventually takes all the blame for it.

"Zayn, there were better ways to approach a situation like that." He's using his disappointed voice, knowing he can't make a scene himself.

"She was being rude!" Zayn starts to exclaim. "I'll call her out, I don't care."

"It doesn't matter. Look where you are." He tells him. "It wasn't appropriate. You weren't thinking."

"Dad, she was being really rude." Elisa tried to explain to her dad too. “She called me a—"

"How are you going to tell me I wasn't thinking?" Zayn cuts in all of the sudden. This blaming game Yaser does is tiring, and it’s not the first time. It’s not going to be the last. "I know what I'm doing. I’m trying to stick up for my sister."

"Zayn, we'll talk about this later. So, stop. I'm not going to repeat myself again.”

He knows this isn't Brooklyn. Yaser didn't say it but Zayn knows what he's thinking when he talks about him not having any sense. Yaser never did like him a lot back in Brooklyn; his behaviour now is completely different so what's not to like? It's not like he knows anybody well here, not like he has friends to do stupid things with. It's all in the past; and Yaser is holding everything against him.

He huffs as he storms away, walking off towards one of the exits of the building. He found himself in the small courtyard of the event venue where he isn't left with too much privacy as he counts the few people outside probably catching some air. He needed to be alone and far away from a; Yaser always gets on his nerves. He'll never let up about the fights at school or the bad decisions he made because of stupid people. As he walked around the venue to go to the parking lot, he could hear Niall behind him, calling out to slow down. All he was seeing was red, and his stupid step dad.

"Zayn, take a deep breath." He feels Niall's grip on his shoulder.

Zayn grimaces. Him being here isn't going to help, but he's here. He won't turn him away. "He's so annoying! I'm so tired of him. He's always targeting me. Things were different, and they're better now, I swear. But he still thinks I'm going to do something stupid."

"You're not." Niall tells him says in a very caring way at first. "You're stupid already anyway so whatever you do is automatically stupid so no need for the labels."

Immediately, Zayn turns around to groan and scowl at Niall. "You annoy me so much." A part of him truly means it, only because of his irritation towards his step-dad.

"You like me annoying you." He laughs. 

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he leans against the tree closest to them. 

"Is there anything else that you can do besides annoy me?"

"Lots of things." Says Niall. He's in a good mood—swinging his arms around, pacing back and forth around the tree Zayn's leaning against. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."

"I'm so glad." Zayn rolls his eyes.

"It's better this way." Niall smirks at him like Zayn knows. He doesn't. What the hell does that mean?

"Why's that?" Zayn indulges into Niall's conclusion, laughing at the absurdity.

Whatever it is, it must be true to what Niall said—better for Niall to stop moving and actually put him in the process of thinking.

He blows out a breath as he rolls his eyes so they’re looking up. "So y'don't do something smart like fall in love with me. ‘Cause you’re stupid and all, right?”

He's never heard something stupid like this before. It didn't make Zayn laugh or make him see Niall as a joke. Truth be told, it sounded as honest as one's words of this stupid thing called love could be. Even so, it left Zayn speechless, the word 'why' looping continuously in his head over and over like a tape.

"Because that's what I want. To fall in love with you, Niall." Zayn replies with a hint of laughter in his voice. "You’re right. I’m way too stupid for that."

Niall forces a short, loud laugh out. "Yeah."

Zayn agrees, although he wasn't fully there in his mind to really believe it. How did they even get to this conversation? He didn't want to be here, and it's too late when he's already thinking things through while his heart beats heavily against him. He doesn't know where to begin with it all—he's for certain, he doesn't like this feeling at all.

It got real silent by the time Zayn tuned back into reality. He wasn't sure how long he was standing in contemplation; he knows it's been more than three minutes when Niall is a foot apart from him.

"I think my grandma's looking for me. I'll see you at school, right?" He raises his hand at Zayn as he backs away with short, small steps. 

"Yeah." He leans off the tree, parking lot still in his mind, his car still being the place where he wants to be, far away from everybody.

* * *

 

As Christmas draws near, there were a lot of things happening—either in a week or two or a month—and things happening in a month don't necessarily involve much. Just his decision on what university he should go to. The thing that practically dictates his life. Zayn's been doing all kinds of research based on which university is right for him. And they were all amazing. Yet, so competitive. He can handle that, no big deal. The only thing is, would this be really happening, or is this just an idea that he has because this means he could be on the same page as everyone else?

Since the Remembrance Day dinner, things between Elisa was slowly rekindling. They were back to spending some lunches together, without people like Frank or Niall intervening. Not that they would be. His classmates were all welcome to join, although they didn't and had their own plans during lunch from time to time that didn’t involve Zayn and he’s really okay with that. Head wrapped around university, he spent all his time in the computer lab with university brochures.

He's going to take a break soon. 

Amidst it all, it was a Christmas spirit week. Everyone was getting ready for the holiday spirit through their clothes, lockers, and candy canes. At the end of the week, their school will be having this Christmas tree lighting ceremony in the courtyard. It'll brighten spirits up—at least for two weeks before exams. And there would be some dance after that in the gym. His interests stopped there.

During history class, they were having the last few lessons of the unit before exam review. Although ever since December started, their teacher has been way too laid-back that she wouldn't simply care about them not doing any work after the lessons. Not that he complained about it.

"How do you spell your name again?" Frank asks as he's got his pen down on a slip of paper.

"Z-a-y-n." Zayn spells out as his pencil idly presses down on his textbook. "What are you up to?"

"Two things: candy gram and secret Santa."

"Oh." Zayn didn't think anybody would be giving him any candy canes. 

"At lunch, we'll draw names out." Frank grins, putting Zayn's slip into his ziplock.

"Alright." Zayn nods. He wasn't feeling it at all. He had more important things in mind—things like university. The guidance counsellors were drilling it into their heads about research and what they need to do to apply for schools.

Now it was eating him alive.

"Is there something wrong?" Frank asks.

"Did you decide what school you're going to?"

"I'm taking a gap year with Kayla and Griffin." He tells Zayn.

"Oh." That's another choice. "That's actually really cool. I forgot about that.”

"We're going to go travel across the states." 

"Weird, Niall isn’t going out with you?" He says as if anything changed from the last time they spoke. It sounds like a trip he'd be a part of.

"I think he spoke about moving out of here with Travis." Frank shrugs. "I think they were thinking of Nashville or Dallas. Even New Orleans popped up in the conversation."

Zayn’s eyes go wide. "For music?" Niall didn’t mention anything about that.

"Probably." Frank gives him a combination of both a nod and a shrug. "It's their scene more so than mine. And Niall's got lots of plans and places to go, so he’s unpredictable with it. Don’t worry about him too much. Not like it matters to you that he’d leave."

"Right." Zayn mumbles to himself. 

"How about you?"

"Debating whether I stay or head back to New York."

"I think you'll grow to like this place. For me, I did." Frank sighs. “But then again, I'd move back to San Francisco if I could.”

"Yeah." Zayn sighs quietly. He would do the same if he could.

Just like what Frank said; they all got together at lunch, including Elisa for this Secret Santa. There would be no polite way to back out of it so that's why he's here. The names went around in a hat—Kayla, Niall, Griffin, Frank, Elisa, and Zayn himself—all drew names. Knowing them, they would have added Travis and his twin brother Connor, Sam, and Gary if they didn't attend Beaufort high school. It was easier to do it all at school anyway.

He pulled a name, hoping for someone easy. And it was like the angels were watching over him to have given him Elisa. Great. He's got an amazing gift ready for her. But he's pretty sure this means Elisa gets two gifts from him this Christmas.

"Don't tell anybody who you got! Or I'll kick you." Frank aims his pointing finger at everyone.

Accidentally, Zayn yawns middle of Frank's scolding. He clasps his mouth immediately just as Frank glares at him. It was an honest mistake. And then there's Niall strumming his guitar dramatically at Frank.

"Shh!" Frank sputters at Niall.

"No, you  _shh_!" Niall shoos Frank away. "I'm working on our Christmas medley."

"Why can't we just be normal people and cover, 'baby, it's cold outside'?" Griffin asks.

"Because I wrote this masterpiece and it deserves to be played!"

Niall set the paper down on the table for everyone to read. And Zayn was already holding back his laugh by the second line.

 _It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas_  
_when grandma got run over by a reindeer  
_ _and Santa is coming to town_

 _Drummer boy is on a sleigh ride, already rockin' around the Christmas tree._  
_Wait, do you hear what I hear_  
_oh silent night, grandma got run over by Rudolph the red nose reindeer_  
_Oh, Santa baby, it's cold outside, come down in my chimney tonight_  
_There's 12 days of Christmas, and my true love gave to me_  
_the most wonderful time of the year  
_ _joy oh joy to the world_

 _This is called the Christmas song_  
_I don't know where I went wrong_  
_Santa came to town, and it all went down_  
_And there I was yelling_  
_deck the halls, don't shoot me, Santa_  
_My love, my love, all alone on this blue Christmas_  
_I can hear the herald angels sing_  
_Glory to the new born king  
_ _Glory to the new born king_

"I like the end." Kayla laughs.

"So, what I got is, Santa comes to town with an army of reindeers. His right-hand man drummer boy kills your grandma using Rudolf. Then Santa kills you." Griffin summarizes.

"And glory to the new born king." Zayn adds.

"I'm glad y'all like it." Niall grins and turns back the sheet his way. "Are you guys going to the lighting of the tree? The band is playing it there."

"Yeah." Kayla answers except Zayn.

"Maybe." Zayn sighs. "I've got to work on my portfolio."

"You gotta go." Niall presses him. He seems disappointed when he doesn't really have to be. Everyone else is going. "What do you need help with? I'm sure we can help you.”

"I don't know. It's fine." Zayn sighs as he picks his things up from the table. "I'm gonna try work on it again."

"Wait, will you pick me up?" Elisa asks.

The good thing about Elisa is that she'll never tell her dad about Zayn skipping school from time to time. And it's for a good reason too. The terrible thing—he has to drive all the way back to school to pick her up today if he's going around taking photos and going home afterwards to develop photos in his dark room. Otherwise, she'll be spending a whole hour just walking home.

"Yes, lil' sis." Of course, he will pick her up even if it means driving back here. He drops by his locker to leave his textbooks. He's considering his backpack too since he'll be coming back anyway. No, he'll take it home and leave it there.

He didn't have his car for a few weeks which felt like forever. Yaser eventually did let him start using it again, only to school, work, and home. And any places that required the car, Yaser said no to—all because of a little mishap between him and Elisa. It's all done now. Maybe not dealt with but they're alright.

He throws his backpack in the backseat of his car and pulls his keys out his pocket. As he shuts the door, Niall's standing right behind him catching his breath, clutching his guitar case. It was a new sight to see Niall in an actual jacket and jeans. To be more precise, it was a light blue jean jacket with a wool collar and his yellow hoodie underneath. And he could never go a day without a part of his leg showing in some way with his cuffed blue denim jeans. There's a sliver of his shin between his yellow high-top converses.

"Are you skippin'?" Niall asks, confusion knitted in his face.

"Yeah. I gotta work on my portfolio." Zayn's got a lot to do for it to be amazing considering he's lacking about a few photos that need to show his diverse range of skills.

"Skippin' is bad." Niall tells him. Sounds like he’s telling it more for himself.

"Yeah." Zayn's fully aware. Not sure if he cares a lot to change his mind.

"But, it ain't so bad." Niall justifies for himself. “There’s a first time for everything, right?”

"Are you... Coming?" Zayn looks around. Just in case someone jumps out and wants to as well—because this feels like a joke of some sort. Why would Niall want to come? Is Ashton Kutcher going to come out of the bush anytime soon?

"Whatever gets you to come to the tree lightin' party this Friday." He smiles afterwards. “Griff already tried to stop me from missin' class so I don’t wanna hear the lecture ‘cause I already did. But you cannot miss your first and last Christmas event here.”

"I'll try." He exhales.

"Swear, Zayn." Niall tells him, and shows him his pinky finger. "You gotta be there or I'll run your mailbox down with my truck. Worse, I’ll take the wheels off your bike.”

He lets out a deep breath, not pleased with himself that he's considering making a promise after all. Sure, he deserves a break. Yes, the lighting of the Christmas tree doesn't sound too bad, but it'll be enough for him. It would sound a whole lot more fun if Zayn didn't give a shit like he used to. After all the stupid stuff he's done, he's hesitant of going to anything party related.

"Whatever." Zayn's pinky intertwines with Niall’s. 

It's silent the whole ride, with occasional whimpers from Niall who isn't used to Zayn's fast driving and the car suddenly picking up even more speed from the changing of the gears. And he's the one who drives a truck—a thing that can go off-road. Stick shift cars can feel like they're way faster than automatics sometimes. Niall is just exaggerating.

"Oh, fuck." He huffs as Zayn slowly rolls onto his driveway. "You drive more recklessly than a tractor on a highway."

"What? No, I don't." Zayn defends. "And that's a whack simile."

"It's not  _whack_." Niall argues. "And is this where you disappear off to in the afternoon?"

There's no other place he'd rather be than home. Where else would he go? He's not the kind of person to be going to the mall during class.

"I’ve skipped at least three times. Maybe seven. It's not a big deal." Zayn explains. Certainly more in the past years. With him and Niall out, he locks his car and pulls out his house keys.

"How do you do it all the time?" 

"It's easy." He shrugs. "Leave and never go back. Guard the house phone with your life because they do call your house around 4.”

"I could never do that. I'd be in so much trouble. My grandma will be madder than a cow seein' red."

But there's this risk he's taking right now being here. When it comes to Zayn, risk isn't the word. This hasn't been the worst thing he's done. And for Niall, maybe it is.

In his attempt to provide Niall with some Southern hospitality, he offers him just about his entire pantry of food and juices. From frozen pizza, grilled cheese, and instant noodles to Cheetos, fruit gushers, and Oreos—Niall denied it all. Zayn would have never guessed he preferred vegetables and a dip over all the things he offered him. It's ridiculous how he didn't; Niall always ate so healthy, so balanced during lunch now that he's thinking about it. 

From one spot as he cuts vegetables, he watches Niall wander around from the corner of his eyes. 

"Your house looks so different. Maybe because it ain't a mess like it was on Halloween." Niall laughs quietly. He was touching nearly everything around the house—photos, magazines, the T.V. remote. Even the throw pillow on the couch. He asks a lot of questions with that curious mind of his.

"Is your mom gone? I didn’t know." Niall asks. He's hovering around his family picture with her. It was just the two of them—before she married Yaser, before Zayn started growing into his clothes. His mom always bought him shirts a size bigger, saying how he'll grow into them one day. She's right about that, thank goodness. He still has the t-shirt he's wearing in the photo.

"Yeah." Zayn doesn't look up from the chopping board; he continues cutting celery into small sticks for Niall.

"She's very beautiful." He says.

"Thanks." Zayn replies quietly.

It's been a few years since she's passed, and Zayn's been okay about it ever since. It doesn't mean he doesn't miss her because he does. There's a sense of shame and disappointment inside of him, like a slow wind picking up. He could feel the face of his mom disappearing from his mind, her presence from when he was born slowly becoming unfamiliar. He could look at the pictures of him and his mom and remember the memories they had together, but he can't feel it anymore, can't feel anything.

"Ow." Zayn hisses. He's cut celery before—cutting his finger is merely a rookie mistake that will probably never happen again. He pinches the cut, and it's quite deep for it to bleed out easily—even when he stops pinching.

Niall stands next to him, watching his finger. He got back in the kitchen so fast, Zayn didn't realize until he said, "Wash your finger."

"I got a cut before." Zayn gives him that look that says,  _'really...?_ ' He has. Niall doesn't need to respond to it like an ambulance unit.

"Where are your Band-Aids?" He looks around like it'll just be conveniently be there for him.

"There's some in that drawer." Because no one has the time to run to bathroom and get one from there. “Look, you don’t need to, care, or whatever.”

Suddenly, Niall scoffs at him; he sounds annoyed, but in an endearing way that both made Zayn feel weird and comfortable. “Zayn,” he said. And he'll never forget the three words Niall told him while holding his hand: “Just let me.” 

There's really no point in doing this. It's a cut. Everyone gets one. It's not like he's bleeding out. Niall wrapping the Band-Aid around his finger is also something Zayn shouldn't get nervous about. But he's watching him intently, wondering why Niall ever decided to hang out with him in the first place. He was way too different—way nicer, thoughtful, and very musically talented. He has a pull on him that attracts everyone, and it's hard being close to someone like that when all Zayn feels like he's doing in this damned place is scaring everyone's Southern, happy ass.

What Zayn had of celery for Niall before he cut his finger, he gave. He's got plenty of vegetables to keep him quiet and chewing while Zayn filled Data's water bowl.

"It's 1:00." Niall realizes as he stares up at the clock on the dining room wall. "I have Biology right now."

"You don't have to skip the afternoon with me." Zayn says as he puts Data's newly filled water bowl down beside her food bowl. Shortly, he leads against the chair in front of Niall, counting the celery sticks in his bowl. “I can drop you back at school before fourth.” He has ten in there.

"No. It's alright. I told you I'll help you with your photos anyway."

"To be honest, I don't need to develop any more now that I think about it. I just have to choose which ones I want for my portfolio and follow a theme.” So technically, he doesn't need Niall's help. To begin with, he really didn't need it at all. And he's not going to admit that he used it as an excuse to sleep.

"I bet you’ve got some awesome ones." Niall smiles at Zayn. “Can I see them?”

"Yeah, sure." Zayn breathes out quietly. "I'll show you."

They were all in his room; on his desk where they were laid out. He put out as many as he can. They were 8.5x11 photographs on glossy paper. All of them were developed in the dark room at school. 

He had many other shots taken previously in New York that he hung up on his wall right beside his bed. He liked one photo in particular—it was a rainy day and he took a photo of his window and turned out incredible. Another one he took long time ago was of his mom when he first started off photography. She was smiling ever so brightly, hair over half her face. She looked like she didn't care about anything. Those two will make it in his portfolio without a doubt.

He knew Niall's attention was all over the pictures. Most of them were the photos from the little show that they played at the Red House. He took as many as he can with his film camera—27 as the max since he was low on film. 

"I just need one or two for my portfolio, so you can take the rest for your diary. I hope that's okay." Zayn scans his table, starting from the upper left corner.

"These are fantastic!" Niall says to him with so much excitement that Zayn almost smiles. It quickly disappears when Niall picks up a photo. "Who is this?"

"My friend back in Brooklyn." He curls back his lips. "His name was Ryan."

Zayn remembers that day so vividly, he can still feel the riveting emotions of the entire day. Zayn and his friends have a history of having rivals from other schools around the neighbourhoods. It wasn't because they did something to physically bother them—it just so happens people in this world find entertainment in annoying others. Ever since, the gang threw the can of coke their way when they were walking home and it exploded on them, Zayn and his friends never miss an opportunity to chase them down or even vice versa.

The day the photo was taken, was the same day that Ryan had a deep cut across his forehead done in by him being shoved to the ground. It was really bad that he got ten stitches for it. But the moment it happened, adrenaline in him was running, and it was all but a bloody cut to him. Zayn won't tell Niall anything more than his name.

"Oh my god, is he dead? I'm sorry." Niall tells him somberly as he throws his arm over Zayn's shoulder.

"No, he's alive." Zayn laughs quietly. "Why would you think that?"

"You said was!" Niall shoves Zayn off of him.

"I wasn't sure if he's still my friend!" Zayn explains. "I haven't spoken to him since I moved! Just eat your carrot sticks."

"I'm done, mom!" Niall shows him his once filled bowl. Before Zayn can scoff at his friend, Niall puts it down on the corner of the table just as he grips Zayn's shoulders—a hard grip he's not trying to think about. “Do ya know what I see, Zayn?" He asks, standing face to face.

"No." Zayn grumbles. All he sees is a face with very pure blue eyes who will probably be the death of him. Not in a good way.

Niall lets one hand go off of his shoulder just to grab his photo of Ryan laughing, tears from the corner of his eyes coming out from laughing so hard. It was night when Zayn took the picture on the fire escape of his apartment; the flash went off and that was all he could remember from that moment. That was the last day he saw Ryan though.

"I see someone who feels a lot and could never verbalize it without scaring himself, even though you could see it in their eyes that they’re honest as can be.” Niall gives a timid smile. “So let your work show it for you. Let it speak for you in your portfolio. Lay it all out for them. Tell them, this is Zayn Malik, and you're going to take my talented ass!”

Suddenly, Zayn laughs and covers his eye with his hand. Fuck, he couldn’t believe Niall was making him blush. "That's not what you see." If that's what he sees, then Niall is very stupid.

"Then what do I see?" He should just be seeing Zayn Malik, a 17-year-old kid who can wear five different shades of black in one outfit and can take decent photos. “You can’t tell me what  _I_  see.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, trying to diffuse this moment of awkwardness. "A clown."

Niall starts off snorting before bursting out into a cackle. "A clown? Is your name Booboo the fool?"

"Stop, Niall." Zayn can't help smiling. He shakes his head, shrugging his right shoulder at Niall like he's about to shove him. "You sound really fucking old. I think you have a soul of a 70-year-old stuck inside of you."

"I know how to have fun, don't call me old." He scoffs. "I like video games and movies too."

"Old soul, not old. It's a good thing. But I bet your favourite game and movie is—" Zayn pauses while he walks to his bed and rolls over on his bed until he's on his back. "Chess and Godfather." 

There's a scoff from Niall that brings Zayn to a stifled laugh. "First of all, my favourite movie is Hercules, so shut your mouth, hater. And there ain’t nothin' wrong with Godfather. It’s a classic!”

"I didn’t expect you to say Hercules." Who would've thought Niall's favourite movie is Hercules? Probably everyone who knows him so well. He could see why it was his favourite movie.

It got quiet for a few minutes, minus Niall's attempt to not make it silently awkward by humming and making incoherent sounds to a song Zayn doesn't recognize. He's still looking at the photos, grinning every now and then to himself when his eyes gaze over photos Zayn took from their gig. He tried his best not to watch when his eyes were directed right on the ceiling as he’s lying on his bed. He can feel them slowly getting heavier as time passes.

"Can I keep this?" Niall shows him a photo of himself from the Red House gig; it was the whole band in one frame with Niall at the mic, Frank on guitar, Travis on keys, Gary on drums, and Sam on bass. They were all laughing together. The only emotion Zayn got out of that was jealousy—in the sense that he misses those days where he feels comfortable with his friends. Not like right now where he feels all he's doing is watching from the sidelines and that's nobody's fault. They try to include him, but it isn't the same when they've known each other for years and they've known Zayn for four months.

"Of course." Zayn answers with his eyes shut afterwards.

He can't deny that he's lazy. It’s especially harder for him when Data comes through his door, and sits at the entrance. Data's a cuddle bug; but there's another boy in his room he doesn't recognize. He'll be studying him for a while before he feels safe enough to approach Zayn on his bed while the boy is here.

"You sleeping?" There's a sudden weight pressing down on his bed beside him that brings his eyes open. 

Niall's here—beside him with a soft look on his face as he teases Zayn by grinning and shaking his shoulder. He laughs quietly, doesn't say anything but tries and swat Niall's hand off his shoulder. Sleeping is all what anyone does when they skip class. He spent all his time last year catching up on lost sleep to playing video games, and catching up on playing lots of video games he lost due to school. 

"You should try and sleep." Zayn suggests. Niall was always up to something. Whether that be on his guitar or talking to nearly everyone who notices him, he's never dropped it all to do nothing. Not even at home—he's always moving about, doing things for everyone else but never for himself.

"I'm fine." He shakes his head while he tries pretending he's got a treat in his hand for Data.

"Have you ever... Just chilled?" Zayn asks. "You know... Do nothing?"

"I'm always chilly.” Niall jokes.

"Seriously... You should." Zayn tells him. 

"I wish." Niall laughs quietly; there's a tinge of disappointment Zayn doesn't bring up. "I've got the band, my sister, my ma and pa to take care of. School too. I think this is the only time I haven't done anything. It's fun.”

"This is the only time you're going to be able to do it."

"What?" Niall laughs. "Sleep on the same bed as you?"

"Not like that!" Zayn shuffles away from Niall. "You know what I mean. Could just, take advantage of being here, and not being anywhere else, or—doing anything else."

“I do know what you mean.” Niall stares up at a spot above the door as if he’s stuck in thought. “But I'm already fine just being around you.”

A part of him really wanted Niall to lay right beside him and he didn't know why, nor did he like that he felt that way about him to be all alone in his house together. It wasn't because he didn't feel uncomfortable or unfamiliar. That's the scary thing—it was the total opposite of what defines everything as bad. And it's right here with him.

Maybe everything in Beaufort didn't suck at all.

* * *

 

Friday came in a blink. Before he knew it, Beaufort is blanketed with snow with blue, clear skies. His locker is filled with all kinds of flavours of candy canes. There were pink ones that's probably strawberry, white with a deep pink stripe that's probably cherry, and his favourite to be: blue raspberry. He always looks forward to the holiday seasons solely because of the candy canes. And not because of these big school holiday events like the tree lighting homecoming or whatever the hell it is. Zayn's glad it's not a formal dance. It was more like a monitored party out in the courtyard; the tree lighting is the focus of tonight and that's all it should be.

He has all day to give Elisa her gift. He's waiting for the right moment. No time during school feels right. Hopefully, she likes it. If not—she'll have to live with it. It's her gift after all.

Elisa dressed Zayn up with a sweater she bought from town. The only reason he approved of it was because it was a sweater he immediately recognized, and made him feel all nice inside. And like always, Elisa's dressed up fashionably ready for winter with no help from Zayn. That's probably the best for everyone. If it were up to him with all this snow outside, everyone would be wearing parkas and layers.

"Before we go," Zayn disappears from Elisa's doorway and returns a few seconds later with a wrapped package in his hand. The wrapper was white with silver designs all over. Frank wrapped it for him. He can't wrap things to save his life.

She gasps, bounding to the door. "Zayn! You're my secret Santa?" 

"Yeah." He grins as he hands her his present.

"Can I open it now?" She shakes it. No sound—must mean nothing inside that's wrapped is small. From the looks of it, she already knew it was some sort of book the way her hand traced it.

"If you want. You don't have to."

She wanted to. Right away, she went to her bed where she sat down with the present on her lap, her fingers carefully pulling at the taped flap, afraid to ruin a wrapper intended to be ruined. Zayn was nervous for her reaction, anticipating a field of emotions that he wants to avoid for himself. 

Out of nowhere, she scoffs at the sight of a leather brown book. “Zayn! You’re regifting my photo album?” She bursts out of laughter, with tears in the corner of her eyes. “You’re so cheap!”

“Yes! A-and no! Stop!” Zayn stammers as he shakes his head. He rushes towards the open spot beside Elisa on her bed. “Open it!”

Everybody knows photo albums brings lots of nostalgic feelings when you look through them, and he knew everything between him and Elisa from Halloween wasn’t completely finished. She went through from the beginning—starting from her first photo from the hospital where her real mom was holding her, and she was glowing in joy with exhaustion written all over her face. 

Zayn was unable to tell if Elisa seeing her own mom would make her cry. She died before Zayn could meet her.

“Hey! Where’d you get this picture? I haven’t seen this!” Elisa exclaims as she shakes the page where she was 8 years old. “This was when we went to Coney Island for the first time, right?”

“Your first time. I’ve been there dozens of times before.” Zayn was 10 at the time; at that point in time, it was a year since Yaser and his mom started dating. It all started off when Zayn's aunt introduced his mom to Yaser at some military function. 

Military functions are always big and annoying. But that’s how they met, pretty simple really. And Elisa was there right beside him, biting her nails, not knowing what to do. Yet, she was used to the military life way before Zayn was. God, he didn’t even know why he was there in the first place. His mom doesn’t really relate to the military besides the fact that her dad is what they call a petty officer whatever that is. Maybe that was a major factor.

“I puked twice there.” She laughs quietly.

“Yeah,” Zayn scratches his head. “I remember my mom sitting out with you while I went on the rides alone.” Yaser wasn’t around that time to come to Coney Island. He can’t remember why, he must’ve been at work. He always is.

“You were really mad that day.” Elisa continues to flip through the pages of the album, opening to brand new photographs Zayn took himself from a disposable camera he bought with his own allowance.

“You were stealing my mom.” Zayn tells her as if its obvious to the eyes. 

Elisa snorts at Zayn who sounds completely like a child. 9 years ago, he was; and for 2 years he watched Elisa take all of his mom’s attention away. Now does he realize after all this time it wasn’t because she liked her better. 

“But I’m happy she got to be yours,” Zayn nods just as Elisa looks up from her photo album. “Is what I’m saying. You lost your mom  _and_  Trisha, so I can’t imagine how it must feel. And knowing you haven’t seen these new photos of you together, it’s my way of showing you that she was your mom just as much as she was for me.”

And the anticipated moment finally came where Elisa quietly let all her tears rush out as her face hides behind her hand and Zayn’s arm holding around her shoulder, consoling her. He had to let her know; he was the one who made her think the opposite. 

“Thank you so much.” She eventually formed words out through her sobbing.

“Oh, and uh,” He has her real gift too. He brings it out from behind his back. “You can open this too.”

“Zayn?” She whines. “This is too much.” She chokes in her tears as she holds his present.

“Don't worry about it.” He laughs under his breath. “Stop crying though. We have to go. Niall’s going to run our mailbox down if I’m not there.”

Elisa coughs through the tight twist in her throat. “What?” She winces at him.

Well, it was true.

When they arrived, they were half an hour late, everyone was already laughing their hearts out, singing along a Christmas playlist that’s blasting school wide. Strings of Christmas lights were hanging all over the courtyard; it was one of the best things he’s ever seen. Luckily, the Christmas tree wasn’t lit up yet; he couldn’t miss that—and not because Niall would demolish his mail box. His family needs that—they’ve got bills to pay, of course.

Zayn blames, what he calls ‘Holiday Magic’, for everyone’s jolly mood. Even assholes like Perry and Taylor were enjoying themselves without harassing people around them. And they know, from the way they left the area as soon as Elisa came around the snack table, not to fuck with her.

Decisions upon many decisions—cold eggnog, hot eggnog, or peppermint eggnog? None. Definitely none. Eggs as a drink doesn’t sound appealing in any way that it’s done. He settled with the Danish butter cookies and hot chocolate.

Suddenly, it sloshes out of his cup when he gets a hard shove from behind, sending him forward.

“What’s the matter with you!” Niall exclaims. As soon as he turns around, the first thing he looks at is Niall’s Christmas knitted sweater just under his grey scarf. And the first thing that pops up in Zayn’s head is how good Niall looks in dark blue. It shouldn’t have. “I thought you broke your promise.”

“N-no!” Zayn stammers. “I-I’m here, obviously! I wanna be here. You’re playing tonight.”

“My performance is g’na be all country.” Niall informs him with a grin. “Real southern country. I’m talkin’ about bluegrass, folk, blues influence. The shit that riles your Yankee ass up.”

Zayn smirks at him mischievously with his mouth full of his butter cookie. He leans into rub his joke in Niall’s face. “Good thing I’m partially deaf and I'll dance to anything that sounds remotely good.”

His eyes lighten up as his eyebrows raise and mouth drops open in shock. Zayn could tell he’s trying not to laugh. “I can’t believe you.” Niall eventually cracks up. “I’m really happy you’re here.”

Happy enough to pull Zayn into his arms for a hug. It was a really tight embrace, and Zayn could hug him harder if he was able to put his hot chocolate down. Niall smells like cinnamon from his breath and a soft, yet addicting detergent scent from his knitted sweater. He couldn't find himself to let go until this girl named Polly tugged Niall away from his shoulder to remind him his band is playing in less than 2 minutes right after the lighting of the Christmas tree.

Niall told him he’d be back right after their performance. For now, Zayn is by the gingerbread houses. Elisa and her friend just started one and to be brutally honest, it looks like a mess. But they were having fun—that’s the important thing. As he waited for the tree to light up, he sipped his hot chocolate and glanced at his feet leaving prints in the soft, thin, white blanket of snow. 

In New York, if he and his friends were walking home, they’d surprise each other by shoving one another into the pile of snow on the side of the road. Most of the time, it would be Ryan and Danny or Liam who would tag team someone else and run off before they could get up. Their target always used to be Harry just because he was so tall, and someone like him reacted to things delayed.

Suddenly, the 30-feet tree in the middle of the courtyard lit up in small gold lights that resembled stars in the night sky. It was wrapped in an ascending red and gold garland and a rope of gold beads. Little trinkets hung up there such as red ribbons, angels, and even little wooden ornaments of the state’s bird, Carolina Wren. The whole school erupted with gasps and respectful cheers. As reserved as Zayn is, who was really feeling the weird holiday spirit bubbling inside of him despite not celebrating Christmas, he clapped and cheered as well—a little short “woo!” sang out from his chest compared to everyone else’s.

“Alright everybody, let’s get this night going!” Niall exclaims through the mic. Their band was on the small, wooden, very country-like stage that’s been permanently set in the courtyard for coffee house or theatre performances. The inside was decorated with lantern string lights and luckily the top was covered because it was beginning to snow. “One! Two! Three—”

This was unquestionably Niall’s style to start off with a heavy blues guitar song. Zayn doesn’t have to know anything about music to know this was certainly a classic rock and roll sound. Zayn wonders how good one must be to play guitar that long and fast without missing a beat and sing a fast-paced song all at the same time.

 _Out of all the reindeers_  
_You know you’re the mastermind_  
_Run run Rudolph  
_ _Randolph ain’t too far behind_

 _Run run Rudolph!_  
_Santa’s got to make it to town_  
_Santa make him hurry_  
_Tell him he can take the freeway down_  
_Run run Rudolph!  
_ _I’m feelin’ like a merry go round!_

The whole hour it was Rock and Country covers of Christmas songs that had the school going nuts. Somehow, Kayla found him during the performance and dragged him closer to the stage amidst Niall’s guitar outro solo in  _Jingle Bell Rock_ that lasted two minutes long. From  _Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree_  to  _Last Christmas_ , a blue’s rendition of  _Santa Baby_ , their setlist was perfect for tonight. To top it all off, they performed the Christmas medley Niall was working on as their last song of the night and it sounded better than Zayn expected. Heavy on the guitar once again with the bass guitar having a moment in there, but the best thing about the song was the piano. It looked like Travis was having the time of his life playing that song.

“Still hate them?” Elisa popped up behind him and shook his shoulder. He knew what she meant by that question with the way she snickered at him and pulled his ear.

“Shut up.” Zayn shakes his head.

“I’m sure you did this for our mailbox, Zayn.” She nodded mockingly at him with her lips tugged down.

“I’m going to break your gingerbread house.” Zayn starts to walk towards the station which eventually turned to him running and Elisa chasing him. There were dozens of them. He’s also sure the collapsed house with the extensive amount of icing wasn’t supposed to look like that on purpose.

“Don’t! I really want to win the gift card for Beaufort Bookstore.” Elisa starts to pull his arm back. “Go look for Niall or somethin’!”

“He’s busy with band stuff!” Zayn rolls his eyes. The truth is, the only friends he has plays in the band—and he didn’t want to jump in there when it was there thing. It’s an inner circle thing, and he’s still fairly new to the group. Aside from Kayla, she’s welcome to do that.

“No!” Elisa turns him around, and points towards his supposed direction. “He’s right—shit.”

Elisa didn’t mean to pause when she saw him. Then there’s Zayn who asked Elisa in his head what she meant even though he already knew the answer. In reality, he didn’t say anything about Olivia gripping his arm and resting her head on his shoulder like that was something that always happened between them. She looked happy about it, and he evidently looked comfortable with Griffin teasing them with a mistletoe. Then there’s that kiss everyone knew was coming—a kiss long enough to leave a lasting image in Zayn’s mind, and even twist his heart just a little.

Great. He’s always the last one to realize these things and when he does, it’s too late to do anything about it. As someone who kept his business to himself, Zayn wasn’t going to do anything about his growing fondness for Niall that’s just been proven to be irrational now. He was never going to mention it despite his mind playing different ‘what if’ scenarios. Now, his mind was running another segment called, ‘I should have’.

Him being quiet and still must’ve explained a lot more to Elisa than he realized. She turned him back around to the gingerbread houses with her arm around his arm.

“You can break my gingerbread house.” She tried to lighten up the mood. It worked when Zayn quietly laughed.

“I was kidding. You know that.” He replies softer than usual—hoping he sounded fine in spite of what he’s really letting on his face.

“Just tell him how you feel.” Elisa frowns for Zayn's sake.

“I don’t like him like that.” Zayn grimaces as he shakes his head. “He’s just my friend.”

“You say that because he’s not your type.” Sounds like Elisa is accusing him of playing it safe.

“He’s not, though.” Zayn liking country musicians who know next to nothing about living in big cities? Yeah, that's definitely his type.

“Doesn’t mean you can't like him.” No, but that’s the thing—they have nothing in common except being born on the same year. How do you end up falling for someone who you never thought to fall for? Ask Zayn—it just happens, and you can’t shake the feeling of it no matter how hard you try to convince yourself it doesn’t fit. His head has constantly been making every effort to make it fit since the field trip to the farm.

“It’s okay, really.” Zayn laughs quietly. “I might be leaving this place really soon so nothing will stick with me.”

“Don’t say that, Zayn.” Elisa frowns. “You’re allowed to fall for someone you didn’t plan to fall for. And just because you’re leaving doesn’t mean you’re going away pain-free.”

“Elisa, it's a stupid crush. I’ll get over it. I got over Ryan not writing to me so this isn’t any different. We all move on.”

Elisa just sighs, knowing she can’t fight Zayn's stubbornness. “Let’s just head inside.”

The dance seemed less interesting now, but he still gave it a chance. The winter décor seemed to lighten his mood up just a bit. There were fake pine trees sprayed with a white foam paint to make it look like snow; the many tiny, golden rows of light hanging over the gym; the fake fire pit where people could sit around if they didn’t want to dance; and the photo booth they rented out for the night really made it.

The only person he could hang around was Elisa and that’s because she’s the only person he knows around. He was aware her friends were waiting for her so he eventually made an excuse to step aside while she went off with them to do their own thing. Truth be told, he was just thinking of going to his locker and cleaning it out before the winter break before he realized how sad that sounds.

“Hey, there you are!” Frank somehow was able to make him out in the dark. “Snickerdoodle?” He offers Zayn a plate of cookies; he’s got all sorts, including a gingerbread man.

He takes the snickerdoodle because those are his favourite and follows Frank to the prop North Pole sign standing at the side.

“I was lookin' for you.” Frank tells him with his mouth full of cookies.

“Yeah, I went in with Elisa.”

“How are you finding it?” Frank asks. “This is actually the first dance decorated well.”

“It looks really nice.” Zayn nods as he looks around. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Who knows? I went ahead. They walk terribly slow.” Frank sighs. “But it sucks. They’re missing some good songs.”

“Yeah.” Zayn laughs lightly. “I actually know these songs.”

“Let’s go dance then!” Frank has a hop in his step. “Unless it's not your thing.”

It definitely not his thing but he’s not going to let the lack of talent and lack of friends stop him from enjoying this dance. There’s a group of Frank's friends from the basketball team already huddled around, throwing their hands up and it’s awful because they’re not jumping to the beat of the music. Fortunately, they catch up to it when Frank joins in, and pulls him along.

“This is Zayn!” Frank tries to introduce him to everyone over the very deafening music.

The only thing he heard in the next few seconds was a loud and welcoming ‘Heeeyyy!’ that made him laugh. A few of them pulled him in and jumped with him. Everything was so fast paced that he was already sweating and craving just a large bottle of water.

There were about six of them. The other guys were somewhere, probably with their significant others and their other friends. It was still overwhelming to Zayn, but brought back memories with his friends who used to do the same things they were doing at parties and dances.

Meeting new people in a new school? Not that terrible, Zayn admits to himself.

Yet, there was something else bothering him, like a tick in the back of his mind. There’s nothing he could really do about it when it’s already done. Niall wasn’t even around for him to bump into. Would he want to see him with Olivia on his arm right now? Not exactly.

“Hey dude, I'm gonna go to the washroom.” Zayn holds Frank’s shoulder down for his attention.

“Alright.”

He grabs water at the table of snacks before he heads out to the foyer. There were lots of students wandering about, sitting together and opening presents that they must’ve done for their own Secret Santa. Zayn still hasn’t gotten his which is quite sad considering it's seven in the evening. Surely, everyone’s got theirs already.

In the washroom, he washes his face with cold water and wets the back of his neck to cool himself down. He didn’t choose the right shirt for this dance; he didn’t think he’d even attend this part of today’s Christmas activity.

Barely a step outside with the door open wide, Zayn chose the wrong time to look and see if the hallway would still be filled with people after being inside the washroom for 4 minutes. It’s about time he saw Niall; the last conversation they had was two hours ago, before Niall went on stage to play. Now him, Griffin, and Olivia’s friends were helping her take posters down. It must be fun, because Niall looks like he’s having the time of his life holding rolled up posters under his arms. Shit, he feels ridiculous for thinking this way when all Niall’s doing is helping her out. But that’s not the case; he just sees them kissing in his head, on and on and on.

He wasn’t ready to talk about the elephant in the room that no one else sees is stepping on him.

Zayn fixes his scarf around his neck. He doesn’t remember how his mom did it for him; Yaser never really teaches him anything since he’s supposed to be old enough to know how to wear a scarf around his neck. Sadly, he’s just been wearing the scarf from one end and wrapping it around his neck until he knows it won’t fall or choke him for being too tight.

“Hey! There you are!” Zayn startles at the sound of Niall’s voice breaking his train of thought and scares him from his scarf dilemma. He appeared out of nowhere, heavily breathing as if he ran here. “Are you leavin’ already? I haven’t gotten the chance to talk to you tonight.”

“I just came to save my mailbox from getting run over.” Zayn tried to play it off like everything was fine. It is. It will be. He looks out the window where he can see his car from the window. “I’m pretty beat so yeah.” No he’s not. This was nothing to the things he used to do back home. “My step dad needs me for something so I really gotta go.” Now, this was definitely a lie.

“Are you coming back?” Niall asks quietly, fixing the rolled up posters under his arm.

“No, Elisa’s friends are dropping her home so I don’t need to.” Zayn bites his lip.

Niall’s got his thinking face on. He must’ve thought Zayn was going to stay the whole night—now his plans are ruined. “But I have your Secret Santa gift in my truck.” It sounds more like a reason to stay once he said it, even if it wasn’t one to Zayn.

“I really have to leave.” Zayn’s lips twist despondently. “I’ll pick it up from your house or something.”

“Zayn, come on.” Niall begs weakly. “I know I’ve been absent but I’ll be able to chill in five minutes.”

Zayn isn’t going to stay around especially when his friends are also hanging around with the girl that kissed Niall. No, he’s not blaming them for letting it happen. And better yet,  _they're_  all Niall's friends; they’ve known each other longer than the ten minutes they’ve known Elisa and Zayn.

They were all calling Niall to come over and hurry up. Zayn really couldn’t just include himself in when this is probably a tradition for all of them to be at. Niall ignored them but it’s not so easy for Zayn who could hear them calling, and see them waiting metres behind Niall.

“I gotta go. I’ll just see you during the break, Niall. I promise we’ll chill. Enjoy yourself, okay?” Zayn grins. “I know I will. I'm gonna hang with my step dad so that says it all.”

“Obviously your favorite past time.” Niall’s voice hitched as he nodded and laughed. “Lucky idiot. Yeah. I’ll…See you.” Then a smile beams on his face before he pulled Zayn into a hug tighter than the one they shared before. “Merry Christmas, Zayn.”

As Zayn wrapped his arms around Niall, he let his body relax, hugging just as tight as his friend was. ‘Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays?’ It didn’t feel like it.

* * *

 

Zayn’s able to easily get over things. Eventually, he got over Ryan’s stupid ass not mailing him back any letters, and eventually, he’ll get over this thing with Niall. It was a fucking crush, and he’s not going to sulk over about feelings not being reciprocated. That’s how life works—that’s how it is back in New York. Although, their school was full of unattractive people so when Zayn showed he wasn’t interested, it was a matter of life or death. Here—it wasn’t important. He’d be leaving soon, and before you know it, just like Ryan, they’ll forget about him. He’s just another Northener who moved to the South, and all he did was complain.

He told Niall he’d pick up his Secret Santa gift, but he never went by for it. It was as if Niall forgot about it too or he was just playing along to the fact that Zayn doesn’t want it, so he won’t give it to him. It’s already New Year’s Eve—isn’t it too late to get? Zayn doesn’t think it’s a big deal—he was still going to hang out with Niall at school, sit with him at lunch, and listen to him strum his guitar to match the sound of his new songs. Nothing will change between them.

He hasn’t seen him since the last week of school. The distance from Niall since then is slowly helping him get over him. However, today would be the day he sees everyone again. Frank is one of those lucky people born on New Year’s—12:01 to be exact so he’s having both his birthday and New Year’s Eve party on the same night. He and Elisa bought so many things related to San Francisco that they were able to make a gift basket out of it.

“Happy New Year’s Birthday!” They yelled once the door opened for them.

“Hey y’all!” Frank yelled along with them and grabbed the gift basket out of Zayn’s arms. “We’re just drinking some beer and playin’ Spoons. That’s our party here.”

“That’s okay.” Zayn was more than fine with that. The last thing he wants is Frank’s house filled with random people he doesn’t know, being drunk out of their minds. He was trying to leave that scene behind in New York.

They took their shoes off and dropped their jackets on the storage bench beside the stairs and entered the living room where everybody else was. Jealousy was the first thing that hit him when he saw Griffin relaxing on the long part of the L-shaped sofa. And then there was Travis and Connor trying to figure out how to turn on Frank’s 60-inch flat screen T.V., Kayla by the shelf filled with DVDs, Sam and Gary mixing different kinds of beers together in one glass on the coffee table, and Niall in the kitchen with the rest of the drinks and snacks.

“Can I drink?” Elisa asks Zayn.

“One, and I’m picking for you.” Zayn looks at the coffee table. “Don’t drink what they’re making there.” Who knows what the hell that is?

“Oh my gosh, you’re like dad.” Elisa huffs, but she agrees to Zayn’s condition. Zayn like Yaser? He doesn't see it at all.

In the kitchen, they had packs of beers and ciders, coke for anyone who wasn't drinking like Zayn. If Zayn was feeling rather mean, he'd give Elisa a coke and call it a night. She'll be satisfied with cider. In the kitchen also stood Niall; his hair is flat today compared to the usual where he has it done into a side-swept quiff. He hasn’t seen him since the last day of school where Zayn promised they’d see other during the break. It just wasn’t going to be as soon as it started; not that it'd be a big deal that they don’t. But it has been two weeks since then, he's not going to let that incident ruin him.

"Hey, Zayn." Niall shoves a chip in his mouth as Zayn stands right beside him.

"Hi." Zayn smiles at him. Then he notices Niall's very low lidded eyes and ruddy cheeks. "Tipsy already?"

"A bit. Just hungry." Niall starts to shake the bag of the flamin' hot Cheetos. 

It might just be a little bit more than tipsy when Niall’s eating junk food over the fruits and vegetable platter set on the counter beside him. "I'll be back." Zayn pops the tab open of a cider for Elisa.

He brings it to her in the living room, and gets a quiet 'careful' warning from her before he goes back to the kitchen. There was nothing to be careful about. Niall was and always is safe. He probably never meant for Zayn to see him with Olivia that night. Come to think of it, he wouldn't even think about the whole scenario hurting Zayn. He never really made his feelings obvious to him. He tried his best not to.

He opens Frank's fridge. It's loaded with vegetables and leftover Chinese food. Niall would appreciate all that food; Frank probably won't mind if he takes it. Zayn opened the container to homemade honey garlic short ribs; if a public restaurant had honey garlic short ribs, he would be there every other day. There was left over rice too that he combined altogether and threw in the microwave for about a minute or two.

He turned back to Niall downing a can of beer like cold water on a hot summer day. He slams it down on the counter beside all his other cans. There were four altogether.

"Take it easy." Zayn crumples the empty cans Niall finished and threw them all into the bin. "I'm heating up leftovers for you."

"Did you eat?" Niall asks worryingly.

"Yeah, I ate before coming here." He and Elisa had saffron rice and grilled chicken that Yaser made for them.

"Good." Niall nods. "How was your Christmas?”

"Got a new set of necklaces and bracelets from Yaser and Elisa then spent the break sleeping in." Until noon to be exact. Breakfast went from starting at 7am to 12:30 in the afternoon. "How about you?"

"Good. I got a new guitar. But the rest of the week has not been chill, as you might say." Niall shares. Zayn takes out the container from the microwave and sets it out for Niall with a fork on the side. "I'm working hell of a lot taking care of the chicks since its cold out and my little sister while ma and pa are working. Gets tiring sometimes."

"If you need help, you know where I am." Zayn grimaces. He couldn’t see the toll it was taking on Niall and it served sort of a problem. He always seems happy all the time and it’s because he always has a smile on his face, regardless with whatever is going on in his life. He won’t be able to tell if he’s overworked or fatigued and it’s quite bittersweet.

"I don't wanna impose It’s my responsibility anyway, my family affairs." Niall looks around him. "Ain't you havin' a drink?"

Zayn shakes his head. "No. I'm driving." 

"Oh darn, so am I." Yeah, Zayn saw his truck outside.

"I'll take you home."

"Yeah." Niall nods eagerly. “I could finally give you your Secret Santa gift.”

"I hope it’s socks.” Zayn smiles tightly.

"Socks?” Niall exclaims. “You want socks?”

“N-no! Niall, I’m joking.” Zayn pulls Niall into a side hug—his arm going across Niall’s collarbone. “I’m fine with anything that you give me.”

Most of the night until 11:30, he stood with Niall in the kitchen. Niall finished his food quickly, and even washed it for Frank, along with a few dishes that were left out. After satisfying his cravings, everyone went out to Frank's backyard for fireworks. They bought a ton to light for tonight—thank goodness, it's clear skies.

Zayn picked out the sparklers to play with while everyone else tested out the bigger ones. Endless fireworks have been popping within the neighbourhood; sometimes it sounds like a gunshot, sometimes it sounds like a bomb as it shoots up the sky whistling.

Even though he had sparklers lit up, his eyes always found its way looking at Niall's direction. He was too busy playing with the bigger fireworks to notice Zayn trying to peek at him from time to time. The one second they caught each other's gaze, Zayn was sitting on the steps of Frank’s back porch, and Niall must've been doing some sort of attendance check, asking where Zayn was, turning his head left and right until he saw Zayn sitting away from everyone.

Eventually, Niall approached him with a knit between his eyebrows. "Are you alright?” He sits one step above him, leaving a gap in between them.

"Just in thought.” Zayn sniffs. “Last year, me and my friends on new year’s eve went to our favorite diner in Philly for a cheesesteak because Manhattan was so full. And we sat there until 2am, ate about three cheesesteaks each then drove home in the morning.”

"That sounds really nice.” Niall sighs in bliss. “It must be really delicious for you to drive to Philadelphia. Surprised that your step dad even let you go.”

“He didn’t. I ran off on him.” Zayn snorts quietly. “He was so furious with me. Even though we didn’t do anything bad, he always thinks I do. Hard to like someone who you can’t keep control of.”

"I like whoever you are." Niall tells him. "Even if you hate my music."

Hate? Zayn leans half his back on the railing so he could look up at Niall, grimacing in confusion. All Zayn could see is a soft smile on Niall's face—he looked like he reached an understanding. In actuality, there's nothing to understand. "Niall, I-I don't hate your music.”

"I always remember when I first saw you that day, you looked like you were in pain." Niall tells this story so nonchalantly; grin plastered on his face as shared this right to Zayn's face. "This whole place turns your face like that. I see it from time to time."

"You haven't been looking lately then." Because he wasn't twisting his face in disgust at everything he passes by anymore. There wasn't anything he could change about being here.

"Am I supposed to be?" Niall’s brow weakly twitches up.

Zayn's lips thinned to a dry grin. "No." Before Niall could say anything, Zayn is back to leaning against the edge of the first step Niall's sitting on, facing the yard and watching their friends shoot fireworks into the sky.

This was awful; there was no way Zayn could keep doing this, pretending he's okay. They were talking as if they haven't spoken to each other, and he doesn't know whether it's his fault or the world for being such a dick to him. First, Ryan completely forgets about him—and now his closest friend is acting weird; saying these things for, who knows what. A reaction? It was way too cryptic.

No one must've realized it was midnight until someone asked what time it was, and it was right on the dot midnight. Immediately, they exploded in wishing each other 'Happy New Year's' and a happy birthday to Frank. He shot up from his seat, yelling it over across the yard for Frank. 

"And happy new year's to you." Zayn eventually turned back to Niall who was standing now as well. "Thanks for everything. Like, being my friend and all that." That's what's important at the end of the day for him.

"Yeah." Niall hops down one step, and places his hand on Zayn’s back. His free hand weakly pinched Zayn's cheek. "You're not so bad, Yankee."

"I didn't think I was." Zayn lifts a brow, laughing. This whole moment was catching up to him—realizing really late how their faces are only inches away from each other. He's not sure if it's supposed to be this way; there wasn't anything he could do at this moment but swallow his nerves down. Pulling away so that their faces were farther away would make it obvious that they were that close. Quite frankly, he didn't want to pull away from this moment—even if life is just doing all of this to make a joke out of him.

"No, now that you're countrified you ain’t." Niall starts to laugh just as Zayn stifled over his own in disbelief. Niall watched the smile he had on in his face so intently. Now, Zayn really was heading for something he knew could either be the best thing to happen or the worst because they were finally face to face with one another, with only a few inches left between them.

"I-in your dreams. Me, countrified?" He stammers under his coping ruse, trying to ignore the fact that Niall's got an arm around his waist, his hand pressing down the middle of his back while his other hand held his shoulder.

"I can hear the country twang in your voice." Niall teases.

"No you don't. It's only been four months." Zayn argues, just as his chest pounded even harder the closer he realized his face was to Niall. The funny thing is, Niall wasn't the one who has gotten closer. Zayn knew it was him; he feels so embarrassed—letting his head hang, stuttering over each word, afraid to look Niall in his eyes. "I-it hasn't been enough time." 

"Yeah it has." Niall laughs quietly, his fingers kneading down on Zayn's shoulder.

Zayn clears his throat, and pulls the biggest mistake of this moment—that's called looking up to his eyes, and in a panic, down to his lips. "F'real, I don't think I can form an accent at 17. It's physically too late for me." Zayn's voice falters as his eyes flicker up to Niall for barely even a second.

This was far from what Zayn expected to happen tonight, but it was enough to end his constant rambling. The pace of his heartbeat increased and there wasn't anywhere for him to go at this point but forward.

"Niall, give us a dang hand here!"

Niall suddenly pulls away until his back hits the other railing—leaving a wide gap between them. "Sure!” He's down the steps before his answer draws out, half-jogging his way to his friends trying to launch a massive firework they weren’t able to figure out.

He let out a heavy, shaky breath while his heart pounded in a complete panic. Zayn went back inside Frank's house with his hands in his hair. No one else was here, thank god—he went straight to the bathroom. All he could do for five minutes was stare at the mirror—stare at his bright brown, eyes, wondering if any of this is real.

"Fuck." Zayn huffs loudly; it sounds more like he’s choking out a sob because he didn’t think his feelings would escalate this high.

The rest of the night eventually led to Zayn avoiding Niall. There were just the awkward gazes across the room, Zayn swallowing the awful tight lump in his throat every time Niall’s eyes fluttered back to him. He tried his best to ignore it all; it’s hard when they smile at you, and you can’t help but smile back out of sincerity.

Zayn forgot he was supposed to drop Niall off until they were all leaving Frank’s house and noticed Niall tagging along with him and Elisa to the car. She must’ve known it was a bad idea as her eyes widened while she grimaced at Zayn. It was as if she was telling him with her face, ‘are you out of your mind?’ For one thing—no. He wasn’t going to let Niall drive home with five beers in him on New Year’s. 

He sat at the front while Elisa sat behind him. It was a quiet ride; Zayn didn’t even play his music—his mind was too occupied on driving and analyzing what the hell that almost-kiss was. This was going to be a never-wrecking thought, and it’ll slowly eat every fiber of his being until he eventually leaves this town, and forgets about Niall. Neither of them brought up what happened on Frank's porch; Zayn's trying to erase it from his mind because every time he looked at Niall, the almost-kiss played throughout when all he wants is for it to stop. And that isn't because Zayn's against it happening—he was really for it, but not the idea that Niall's screwing with him.

Elisa switches to the front seat when Niall drags Zayn out the car to get his late Christmas present. Immediately, Niall’s greeted by his dog. Just when Niall can’t get any worse—he plays with a dog who clearly loves him so much. 

Tonight is the first time he’s seen Niall’s room. Not even when he was here for dinner did he get a sneak peek. Although, he wasn’t looking to be in here in the first place. He has lots of small posters hung up on his wall; pictures of musicians that Zayn doesn’t know the name of. And through his wincing did he see the photo he took of Niall himself amongst all those within the collage. He looked like he fit in.

“Finally! I’ve been waitin’ to give you this.” Niall hands him a wrapped rectangular present with an enveloped tucked in under the gold ribbon.

In his hands, he already knew what it was. It bent so easily. “A book?” There’s a lot of these being given out so it seems.

“Not just any.” Niall sounds thrilled about it. He sinks right on his bed, leaving space for Zayn to sit beside him. “Open it, right here. I wanna see your face when you figure out what it is.”

“Alright.” Zayn pulls the card from under the ribbon. He opens the envelope flap, but Niall took it out of his hands right away.

“Skip that.” He says. “It’s just a card.”

Whatever he says. He pulls apart the wrapper as slow as he can until he could see the cover.

_Subway Adventure Guide: New York City: To the End of the Line_

“A book on New York?” Zayn asks softly. He opens to a random page. It was a book on restaurants, museums, and destinations to visit in New York. It would be the kind of book tourists would read. Zayn hated that there were so many tourists—but now there’s a whole new side to it.

“So, when you go back home, you’ll have lots of new things to do.” Niall tells him. “I’m sure you haven’t seen everything. After all, you said it’s got its secrets.” Zayn couldn’t help but flip through it as Niall went on. “I read some of it. You better take me to John Brown Smokehouse on Long Island. You’ll have to get on the G line and it’ll take you to the end of Court Square.”

Zayn laughs quietly. “Yes, Niall. I will absolutely take you there.”

“Better than socks?” Niall elbows him gently.

“No.” Zayn agrees without hesitating. “Just kidding.”

* * *

 

That was the last time he and Niall really hung out.

He used to be around; now it was every other day of the week that Zayn would spend his lunch with him. Zayn didn't ask Frank about his absence—he can already tell from Frank's subtle annoyance that Niall's lack of presence these days is because of Olivia. Were they dating, or were they just friends? No one knew the answer to that except Niall himself, and it stayed that way.

This lunch, he sat with Frank and Kayla like always. Who knows where Griffin is, not that he's looking for him? He wasn't hungry, and his stale french fries weren’t helping him in any way at all.

"Are you guys busy tonight?" Zayn asks the two of them.

"No." Frank replies in a hopeful tone while Kayla shakes her head. Frank tilts his head, waiting for Zayn to continue.

"I-it's my birthday today and I was wondering if you wanted to go to the movies with me. To at least do something for the occasion."

"Fuck, really? Happy birthday." Frank puffs in awe. "Of course."

"Yes, happy birthday, sweet pea! I'd love to do something." Kayla giggles. It must be somewhat funny when she's barely available to hang out with on most days.

He didn't want to spend his eighteenth at home not doing anything. The least he can do is spend it with friends and go watch a movie.

"But you're 18!" Kayla exclaims. "The movies isn't—it's not good enough!"

"I don't know what else there is to do in this town." Zayn says quietly.

"Just meet us at Fat Patties at seven." Kayla shakes her head. "We'll take care of everything."

* * *

 

Having them plan a birthday was a lot to put on Kayla and Frank, especially Kayla who he doesn't know so well compared to Frank and Niall. From what he already knows, she's a sweet girl who lives on a small acre farm with a few chickens and a cow. She tries to hang out with them from time to time—difficult when she's got chores to do after school with a pile of homework on her shoulders.

All he's hoping for is that there's no cake and alcohol. Elisa already surprised him with a Black Forest cake from the bakery this morning that Yaser got for him. He couldn't be there to surprise Zayn before school. If he does get a cake, he won't turn it away. The one thing he really doesn't want is alcohol. It just brings him back to the parties in New York. One night he passed out completely and woke up with the hardest pounding in his head, and skipped two days of school just to recover from it. Sometimes he would drink enough not to remember anything. He would only get the stories from his friends, telling him the stupid things he did that night. They got stupider overtime. 

Now, he wasn't going to stop anyone from drinking. That was their choice, and this is his. But a little cider here and there doesn't hurt.

He went to Fat Patties a quarter after seven just to be on the safe side. Zayn didn't want to be there too early, and he felt completely stupid when he went there, and it was closed. All of the lights were shut, and the sign was turned to ‘closed’. Well, that was one hell of a night—time to go home! His friends suck!

“Zayn!” Frank yells behind him. Zayn was already at his car opening the door when Frank appeared out of nowhere. “Where are you goin’?”

“H-home!” Zayn stammers in confusion. “It said it was closed, and I didn’t see you or Kayla.”

“It’s closed for  _you_.” Frank bursts out in laughter. That’s even more embarrassing. “Didn’t you try opening the door?”

“No! It says ‘closed’!” Zayn scoffs. “So, everyone watched me walk here and turn back?”

“Yeah. Niall wanted to wait it out and see how long it would take for you to realize. Of course, you didn’t.” Frank pats Zayn’s back as he led him back to the entrance.

Did he say Niall? Zayn always hears his name, it’s become so familiar that he isn’t surprised to hear he’s around. But since he’s been absent the last few days, it’s a surprise to hear he’s here tonight.

“I hate you guys.” Zayn shakes Frank’s hand off of his shoulder.

As soon as he got inside the ominous and dark restaurant, an entire pie is smashed against his face. It hit him so hard he almost fell back. He could hear the long ‘oooh’s’ through the lemon cream pie being smeared against his face. Did Zayn ever mention he hates lemon cream pie for this exact reason? It was the only pie smothered in meringue. Its sole purpose is to soften the blow of the pie as it smashes against vulnerable faces.  

“Happy birthday, Zayn!”

“Ugh,” Zayn’s face twists in disgust. “Niall! I knew you’d do something like that.”

“No, you ain’t know nothin’ bout it!” Niall is loving every second of this moment.

Zayn wiped a handful of the cream off his eyes, and swung his hand right against Niall’s cheeks. He squeezed Niall’s face between his palms. And he was hit with a moment where all he wanted to do was pull him in for a kiss. Instead, he took his hands back and wiped more of the pie off his face as he walked towards the washroom.

He could hear the music playing through the walls as he washed his face. It didn't sound like anything he recognized but if everyone was happy, so was he. The door swung open just after he came in. From the annoying laughter that's supposed to purposefully get on his nerves, Zayn can already tell it's Niall. It ends in a lulling sigh.

"You didn't tell me it was your birthday." The sink beside him starts to run. 

"I told Kayla and Frank at lunch." Zayn grimaces.

"Yeah, and then they told me later during the day they had somethin' planned for you." Niall sounds annoyed.

Zayn gave a loud sigh as he turns towards at Niall. "I wasn't sure where you were at lunch or last period so I couldn’t say anything, alright?”

"I was with Olivia but you could have still told me." Niall furrows his eyebrows.

"I don’t think that I could if you weren’t around. Does that make sense to you?" Zayn looked up at the mirror to see if he had any cream in his hair.

"Look,” Niall’s lips curl back between his teeth. “I know I’ve been away and I don’t mean to be. If we could talk somewhere else, I can explain myself."

“Sounds ominous.” Zayn raises a brow. "Bathroom's not good enough for you?"

"You can't deny that there's something foul in here." Niall chuckles quietly.

Zayn snorts. "Alright, diva."

Whatever it is must be serious for Niall to pull him aside even when they're already alone. As soon as they leave the washroom, Elisa's in his face with one of the happiest expression he's ever seen her have.

"Zayn! Oh my god! You'll never believe me!" Elisa exclaims and she grabs him by the arm.

"What?" He probably won't. 

"Zayn!" A voice yells out of nowhere. His face pops up from the corner—nothing about his best friend has changed.

Zayn's heart practically dropped, did a somersault, and five backflips as soon as he heard that voice. It was full of mischief and excitement—a character that no one wore well as Ryan Potter. It was easy to say yes to anything he wants done, and hard to say no when it's something deep down you want done too.

"Ryan! I can't believe you're here!" Zayn yells out in excitement. They clap each other's hand before pulling one another into an embrace. "It’s been so long!”

“I wanted to surprise you!” Ryan claps. “It totally fucking worked, dude.”

"How're the guys?" Zayn asks in excitement.

"Stupid as always." Ryan shakes his head. "I've got a lot of shit to say.”

"Yeah, dude." Zayn is in utter disbelief that Ryan's here in Beaufort. How did he find him anyway?

Zayn almost forgot about Niall until he looked behind him. He was standing there ever so quietly, with a soft grin on his face. There was still cream in his hair. Zayn picks it out until his small curl over his temple is clean.

"Ryan, this is my good friend, Niall."

"Howdy." Ryan offers his hand, mocking a country accent.

"Hey." Niall laughs quietly. 

Before he could walk away with Ryan, he looked at Niall and asked, "You wanted to talk right?”

Shaking his head, he grips Zayn’s shoulder as he walks away. "Maybe later. Find me."

So, find him later, he will. Zayn and Ryan went outside to the patio to catch up. Each of them brought along a plate with a classic cheese burger and fries. They tried their best to eat the messy thing with one hand while holding the plate.

Standing alongside his best friend, he still couldn’t believe he was here in Beaufort, South Carolina. After all the times he wrote and never got anything back, it was already telling that Ryan wouldn’t be getting back to him. He’s glad he’s wrong about it.

“I read your letters. I thought you were dying.” Ryan grimaces with an arm extended in a shrugging gesture.

“Where the fuck have you been all this time, though?” Zayn presses. “I sent you those in September and October and you didn’t reply to any. Why are you even here?”

“I wanted to surprise you for your birthday and see what’s up.” Ryan explains. “I came by your house and Yaser said you're at your surprise party. It's been a crazy year, dude. So much shit has happened.”

“They’re still holding the last incident against you?”

“No. Something else.”

Ryan went on to explain the story of how their mutual friend Jay was constantly missing school because he was always picking up shifts at work for income. Ryan and Zayn were the only two who knew what was happening with him at home that they understand Jay's need to be absent from school all the time. It was getting to a point where he missed about three weeks. Ryan was only looking out for Jay when he started doing his assignments for him. Ryan offered it to him without worrying about the consequences that eventually came to finally bite Ryan in the ass.

Switching to a different school was an acquaintance of Zayn's. Most of his friends were forced to go somewhere else, seeing them less and less until it all eventually stopped. Zayn himself had gone through two different schools in a year before meeting Ryan and his other friends at Laguardia. It wasn’t his choice to leave his old friends behind, but he’s grateful to have moved or else he wouldn’t have met any of them. They were all familiar with it, but it doesn’t mean none of them were sad about it. No one ever had a good reason to change schools.

“They kicked you and Jay out?” Zayn frowns.

“I go to Midwood now.” Ryan says quietly, then his face went somber. “Jay dropped out.”

“Well, how’s Midwood?” Zayn asks in the same soft voice as Ryan.

“Fine.” Ryan grins all of the sudden. It seems like he doesn’t want to dwell on it. “Not as bad as this whack town. But you look happy here.”

“It is whack. I didn’t think I'd meet anybody here.”

Ryan nods until he realizes something. "You still smoke?"

"Nah. Yaser's up my ass these days."

"He's actually not so bad. He actually cares about you.” Is Ryan actually defending him? What the fuck?

“I’ve been grounded once each and every month ever since we left Brooklyn and he took my car keys for a two weeks because me and Elisa had a fight! Are you f’real?” Zayn makes a sour face at Ryan.

“Your life sounds like shit right now." Ryan snickers as he hands him a cigarette. He hesitates to take it; only to convince himself this would only be the night he’ll ever have a cigarette ever again. Unless college screws him over that he’s got no choice but to smoke.

He lets it roll between his finger, before letting it slip between his lip. A quick flick of the lighter on the cigarette’s end, he takes a long inhale before telling Ryan the shy truth. "It's not that bad in my opinion. Less drama. Thankfully, no one's pissing me off  _that_  much.”

If he never came here, he wouldn't have stopped smoking for one thing. And eventually, he wouldn’t have stopped getting into so many fights that Yaser literally threatened to ship him off to military school. For fuck sake, doesn’t that sound so typical of him? At least it happened earlier in his life, and not a month before he’s going off to college.

“I’m not sure how to tell you,” Ryan starts off slowly. “But I’ve sent applications to St. Andrews and Cambridge. Some of the other guys have applied all over.”

“Is that in UK?” Zayn asks. “That’s awesome!”

“Yeah! I’m excited.” Ryan laughs. “I honestly can’t wait to leave New York.”

“Really?” Zayn raises a brown.

“I’m tired of waking up to the same old thing. I wanna leave and see shit. Apparently, when you live on your own, you learn about yourself.” Ryan laughs and elbows Zayn.

“Where do you wanna go?”

“Fuckin’ Ibiza, Japan, Morocco, Turkey. Everywhere, dude.” Ryan huffs. “Don’t you?”

“I-I don’t know.” Zayn shrugs. “I’m still deciding. I-I was gonna go back to New York, but if everyone’s leaving, then I don’t think I should.” And he’ll never admit it out loud but this town isn’t so bad after all.

“Be quick about it, dude.” Ryan laughs quietly. Then he curses under his breath out of nowhere. “Fu—I’ll be back. Gonna wash my hands.” There’s ketchup and relish all over them from his burger.

Zayn doesn't think he'll be able to decide so fast like everybody else. He knows he wants to go to college—where is the problem that's been burdening him, and applications are due soon at the end of the month. 

He waited for Ryan to come back. His cigarette has been finished for a minute, and now it's under his shoe. Coughing into his elbow, his face twists in disgust, tasting the toxic flavours of cigarettes in his mouth. 

While he waited, he couldn't handle the fact that Ryan and all their friends want to leave Brooklyn. That city has everything a person could want, but it always seems like it's never enough for anyone. Or rather, it's missing something—people are looking for something. He could see that; for one thing, they can't make shrimps and grits or seafood medleys as well as southerners or feel free as one can be being able to run through an entire wheat field under the sun.

He was deep in thought until Elisa started banging on the window for him. Her mouth formed his name in a panic as she hit the window with her palm until he came back in the restaurant, greeted with an open brawl between Ryan and Griffin and lots of yelling.

"Ryan! Stop!" Zayn dove right in between their fight to pull Ryan away. What a fucking birthday.

Out of nowhere, Griff swings his fist across Zayn's face—a punch meant for Ryan that never received him. A sharp pang erupted from his nose, and he found himself stumbling as he pinched his nose.

"Zayn!" Elisa yells.

He blinked until his vision looked at least somewhat fine, only to notice Niall pulling Griff back by his elbow. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" Zayn hisses at Griff, his free arm gesturing at him in disbelief.

"Go ask your stupid friend, attackin' me out of nowhere!" Griff scoffs.

"You've got no business to be talking about me or Zayn. Pathetic. Fuck is wrong you people?" Ryan spits out so harshly, Zayn's nose started hurting even more.

“You people?” Griffin shoves Niall out of his way to get back to Ryan.

"Ry—" Zayn exclaims before he hisses in pain. "Fuck, my nose." Ryan only has an insanely red face from anger and annoyance—even maybe a few hits here and there on his face, but Zayn who wasn't even involved in the fight to begin with gets the nastiest punch of the night? Unfair.

"Zayn, you need to go to the hospital." Niall ducks low enough to help Zayn up. 

"No, he fucking doesn't." Ryan pulls Niall away by his shoulder.

"Of course he does. What in the hell is wrong with you?" His voice raises.

"You're friends with him aren't you?" Ryan points right at Griffin, but he's speaking to Niall.

"Zayn's my friend too." Niall argues. "You're runnin' off of adrenaline so calm down.”

"You don't know shit about me." Ryan spits out aggressively.

This was fucked up. He grunted as loud as he can, letting his hand go from his nose. He has blood all over his hand. "Stop!" Zayn groans. "For fuck sakes."

Niall pulls a chair for Zayn and quickly sits him down. 

"Fine, if y'all wanna sit here with a broken nose, at least hold the bridge of your nose, and lean your head forward." Niall holds the bridge of his own nose as he calmly directed Zayn, even with Ryan standing their with a frown on his face.

Griff must've gone outside with Frank, Kayla, and Travis. Everyone else tried their best to ignore the situation by turning around. How could they when the birthday boy was sitting on a chair with his nose bleeding because his best friend turned on his defensive maneuvers against big-mouthed Griffin. He couldn't blame Ryan—he did something Zayn thought about doing from time to time.

Zayn listened to what Niall told him to do. He was breathing through his mouth, trying to calm himself down. He hated getting nose bleeds. 

Niall came back with tissues and an ice pack for Ryan who sat down holding it against his face.

"How's your face feelin'?" Niall asks quietly, his face ridden with worry.

Zayn tries to grin through the pain. "It's not my first nosebleed." Niall's face looses its wrinkles when he stares in disbelief.

"Zayn's used to this shit." Ryan snickers quietly.

"What do y'all mean?"

"I—" Zayn sighs. This wasn't something he liked going back to. "Remember when you invited me over for dinner, and we were talking about people doing stupid things... And I told you how there was this kid who sent a guy to the hospital and got kicked out of school?"

"Was that you?"

"Yeah." Zayn sighs. First, it was Farris and Enis who got expelled, then it was him—now it was Ryan and Jay who didn’t deserve it. Sure, they all did stupid things, but to kick Ryan out for helping out a friend? Sounds like the school system doesn’t give a shit about him or Jay. “Save the comments about how stupid I was, though. I always get'em from my step-dad.”

“Nothing to save.” Niall shrugs weakly. "It ain't your fault." 

"Most of them weren't but my stepdad never believed me." 

"Should I call him?" Elisa asks. Zayn didn't realize she was standing here listening to their conversation.

"No. He'll find out eventually." Zayn dabs the tissue under his nose, seeing how there was nothing else dripping out his nostrils.

It was as if he loved the bathroom since he spent most of his time here the entire night. After it stopped for sure, he washed his hands thoroughly, wiped the blood off his face until he was able to look at himself in the mirror and see a bruised nose. 

What a nice birthday gift. At least there was ice cream cake.

* * *

 

Going home with a bruised nose apparently means you've gone back to your old ways. And Yaser doesn't like Zayn's old ways. He hates it so much he grounded Zayn. Again. An 18-year old's been grounded—how fucking classic.

He wasn't allowed to go anywhere after school except work and back home. Otherwise, he was back to being a prisoner in his own home with Yaser playing prison warden. At least Ryan was staying with them—for a few more days. He's spending it grounded just like him. 

He hung out in Zayn's room while he was at school. It didn't feel that long when he spent it playing with Data and watching movies. By the time Zayn got home, Data was resting on Ryan's belly as he read through Zayn's Deadpool comics.

"Did I ever tell you Yaser is still a lame stepdad?"

"Yeah." Zayn scoffs. 

"Whatever." Ryan huffs. He picks Data off his belly and sets him on the end of the bed. 

Zayn drops his bag at the foot of his desk as he stretches his arms and yawns. He's got so much assignments to do, it's frightening—he can feel his sanity slowly slipping.

He looks from his window to Ryan, receiving possibly the worst shit-eating grin on his face, reminding him of a goblin.

"What?" Zayn laughs quietly. 

"Your collage of photos." Ryan gestures to the wall right beside Zayn's bed. "It's nice. I’ve been looking at them all day. It grew.”

Zayn sits on the edge of the bed to get a closer look at them, despite seeing them every day. He was too tired to make an album so he stuck the photos on a spot on the wall beside his bed. "Those are the best photos that I've taken from today. I don’t have a lot in my own opinion."

"Glad I'm on this." Ryan points to the photo of Ryan grinding on a rail at the skatepark. He practiced it every weekend for three months. "And Enis, Farris, Liam, Jay, Elisa, Data, Trisha... And Niall."

The way his name rolled out his tongue was already a red flag for Zayn. He would've reacted immediately if he didn't know Ryan was watching for it.

"First real gig of his I watched." Zayn explains as normal as he can. "He needed a photographer for his diary."

"What's your deal with him?"

"Nothing." Zayn laughs quietly. "We hang out."

"You move as if I don't know you." Ryan smirks at him.

"Okay!" Zayn forces out a louder laugh. "If you know me so well, tell me how you see it."

"You like him. A lot. Surprisingly since you don’t really go for the innocent and nice looking type of people. And hicks." Ryan gives him an endearing grin. No mischievous tone in his voice this time. "But you haven't told him for reasons unspecified."

"He's with someone else." Zayn eventually confesses. “And he isn’t a hick. I would never go that far.”

"Officially together?" Ryan asks.

"Think they're working on it."

"You can still tell him then." Ryan shrugs. "If Niall wanted them, he would've made a move."

"So why hasn't he done anything when it came to me?"

"That can go the same way for him.” Ryan gestures his hand at Zayn. “Why haven’t  _you_  done anything?”

“Because he has a girlfriend! Or will. I don’t know.” Zayn huffs. “It's hard.”

“You make it hard.”

“I make it hard? I didn’t do anything.”

“Exactly! You don’t do anything!” Ryan shakes his head. "It's—well ever since I've known you, you usually dodge the topic. Remember Alyssa? You liked each other until she switched schools. Didn't mention a word to her. You waited.”

"Because she was moving."

"She moved to Queens!” Ryan cackles as if Zayn’s being absurd—and he is. “It wasn't that far."

"But Dallas is." Zayn raises his brow.

"He's going to Texas?"

"Yeah, or Nashville or New Orleans. For music. He's really good. I don't see how he wouldn't go far with it." As sad as he sounds, he couldn’t help but be happy for him. Nialls good at what he does, and nothing should stop him from doing what he wants.

"It's still not the end of the world." Ryan huffs. "Worst case, he calls you ugly and gets really famous. And you're not ugly so there you go." Ryan laughs. "Come on, what have you got to lose?"

"Nothing. I don't lose anything." Zayn answers disappointingly.

"And if he doesn't feel the same way, apply to be a model. It'll boost your confidence big time." Ryan shrugs.

"Shut up." Zayn shakes his head.

"I'm serious!"

“That’s the shitty part! I know you’re serious.”

And knowing that Ryan’s best interest is for him, he couldn’t blame him for pressing him on about Niall. Knowing himself, it would’ve continued on with Zayn suffering in silence; watching Niall and Olivia prance about together, silently mocking Zayn for not doing anything. And in the end, he’ll be somewhere far away from here. Years from now Niall won’t even come into his mind. He’ll be working his ass off taking photos for magazines without a thought. There will be no ‘what could have been’.

Zayn skipped an entire day of school to spend his last day with Ryan before dropping him off at the airport. Even if Yaser found out, he must understand he won’t be able to see Ryan again for a very long time.

They drove to Charleston for the day since he was taking his flight back from the international airport. Zayn’s never visited Charleston all this time he’s been here in South Carolina; only now does he see a real city, a real place with hundreds of people walking around.

And when the time came for Ryan to go, Zayn didn’t worry about a thing.

“Sorry for not writing back to you.” Ryan tells him as they held the embrace. “I know it would’ve helped you out.”

“Don’t be.” Zayn grins to himself. “You’re my brother from a Japanese mother.” Actually, his dad is Japanese—his mother is Caucasian and Jewish.

He’ll see him again. It wasn’t the end of the world. But maybe he'll be on the other end of the world—somewhere in Asia having the time of his life once he starts traveling.

When he arrived around the block, he noticed a truck parked right in front of his house. It wasn’t just any truck like everyone else drove in this town. He knew who drove the old thing—he was in it once.

Niall was sitting on his porch, knees bouncing in uneasiness. That all ended when Zayn rolled into his driveway and Niall came running towards his car until Zayn stopped. Zayn’s mouth dropped open at the sight of Niall dressed so formally from head to toe, making him look older for his age which he already was with even just a casual t-shirt. But his black leather sneakers made him look just like a naïve high school boy which he is in the end. He was wearing a simple white button down with simple thin, black tulip drawings all over tucked in his black dress pants. He watched Niall running out in the rain, soaked with an anxious look on his face before he jumped into Zayn’s car.

“I need a favour.” Niall gets straight to the point.

“Yeah?” Zayn lifts a brow.

“I have a date with Olivia tonight. I’m meeting her parents, and we’re having dinner at Plums. I need some advice because her dad is the freakin' mayor of Beaufort and loves the freakin' band. He’ll probably sponsor us if everything goes well, right?”

His chest deflated as he quietly puffed to himself. He takes a deep breath before he awkwardly shows his bottom row of teeth. “What kind of advice are you looking for?”

“What should I talk about?” Niall asks. “Her parents adore posh guys, and she told them I’m this genius applying to Harvard. I ain’t Harvard material.”

“Calm down.” Zayn laughs quietly.

“She also said her mother’s a vegan and can’t eat meat in front of her or she'll go nuts.” Niall stammers in a panic. “I-I ain’t even heard of a vegan!”

“It’s when you can’t eat animal products.” He’ll admit, it’s fun to watch Niall panic about this date. It shows he cares. Sadly, it wasn’t a date with him. He tried not to let it get to him.

“Are you joking?” Niall shouts in frustration. “I'm craving freakin’ seafood!”

“Okay!” Zayn grabs Niall’s face, and suddenly moves to hold his shoulders. “Niall, chill.”

Now Zayn was losing it with the way Niall was looking at him.

“Why wouldn’t they like you?” The question is hypothetical and Niall doesn’t need reasons to answer that question even if it wasn’t a hypothetical question. “You’re crazy talented, really amazing at playing that fucking guitar, a chef, an awesome brother, even ambitious, like all the good things people wanna be. You don’t need my advice, Niall. You'll be good. Even if they don’t sponsor you or promote the band, you don’t need it. You guys are already amazing on your own.”

“Is that what you see?” Niall asks quietly.

“Yeah.” Zayn shrugs before his eyes widen. What’s he saying? He's too obvious right now. “Sadly.” He adds, hoping it saves him.

“Maybe I should’a gone out with you. You ain’t vegan.” Niall laughs quietly.

Is he serious? He can’t be—he’s going on a date in less than an hour. Like Ryan said, if Niall really liked Zayn, he'd do something instead of dancing around the topic.

“Doubt we'll work out.” Zayn thinks out loud. He really wants to diffuse this conversation, but he might’ve just put more gasoline on it when Niall’s face suddenly softens into an expression of absence. “Because like, you’re an apple, and I'm like, an orange. Just very different people, you know?”

“And what? Olivia's an awesome granny smith?” Niall snorts.

“Yeah.” Zayn nods at him. “So go with her.”

“You’re right. I ain’t dating her parents. I'm gonna date her. That’s what’s important.”

“Exactly.”

“Okay!” Niall exclaims. “I’m goin' ahead!”

“Have fun!” Zayn smiles at him.

Right after that, Niall left the car and went into his, leaving Zayn to sit all on his own. He sat there watching the truck drive away from his house through the mirror. Zayn stayed in the car for a long time, pondering about whether giving him the greatest advice was a good part on his end. This was the advice of all advices that could probably land Niall Olivia as his legitimate girlfriend by the end of the night if they already aren't. 

No, he wasn't a saboteur. If there's one thing he won't do, it's ruining anything that has to do with his friends' happiness.

Since he was grounded, there was nothing to do but to stay in for the night. He worked on college and university applications the entire evening, applying for top ranked schools just to see if he's got at least a little bit of a chance for something more than a guaranteed entrance. His biggest problem wasn't whether he would get in or not—and he means that in a humble sense. It was choosing whether he'd stay here longer or leave as fast as he can, and go back to New York like always.

It was a decision that would be coming back to bite him in March.

Only an hour passed and the weather wasn’t letting up at all that he finished getting himself ready for bed. It seemed early, but everything in Beaufort closes early so it wasn't that big of a deal to be in bed at this time around. If you want to hear worse, Elisa is usually asleep before her dad comes home from work. She's even sometimes asleep by 5pm and it’s bad because she'll wake up at 2am and not sleep until 4am. Other times she’s just holed up in her room doing homework. Unfortunately, he still wasn't home yet, and there was an awful storm outside.

It came out of nowhere. The rain turned the snow into ice, the harsh winds made the trees look bigger than they are. Zayn sat by his window, waiting for the lightning to turn the night sky purple and for the thunder to rumble the earth. He could see the shadow of the leaves from the willow tree swinging along with the wind.

Then a car pulled up right along his house. It wasn't Yaser, and it wasn't a car he actually recognized with two figures running towards his house he did recognize.

Luckily, he was in a zip-up hoodie and some black sweat pants at the time to be able to run right downstairs for the door before Frank and Griff could even knock. There they were, standing soaked in the rain after only being in it for a short few seconds. They were holding a plastic bag filled with god knows what—it looks absurdly heavy though. At least it wasn't a long run between the road and Zayn's door.

"Hi?" Zayn greets them out of confusion. They were out of breath and shivering, their clothes soaked from the rain. "Come in." He moves away from the doorway, allowing them to come in.

"Ain't realize how cold it was gonna be tonight." Frank sniffs. He tried to stop his lips from quivering by curling them in. He hugged his own torso to keep warm but it was wet.

"Take that off." Zayn gestures his chin at Frank as he unzips his sweater. Zayn had a t-shirt on under; the least he could do was shed away his sweater and give it to Frank.

As Frank slid his arms inside Zayn's hoodie, Zayn prepared the kettle with some water. Tea was all Zayn could offer at this point; his fridge is stocked low on anything good to eat at this time. Despite his shaky relationship with Griff, Zayn felt the need to grab him something warm and dry to wear as well. He came back down from his room with another sweater that Griff quickly pulled over his head.

"What are you guys doing here? I'm grounded so I can’t have people over or my step dad is never gonna leave me alone." Zayn grimaces weakly. He never had anybody from school visit him. The Halloween party didn’t count.

“Just came to hang. Talk.” Frank nods, looks at Griff who gives him a shrug that looks like he approves of Frank's answer. “Brought snacks too.”

“Okay.” Zayn narrows his eyes, hesitantly walking over to the living room where Frank starts to unload his plastic bag. He’s got hot-lime cheetos, gummy bears, 20-piece nuggets from McDonalds, and a large sweet tea.

They all settled quickly with everything in the middle. Frank complained about the two sweet and sour sauce packets before he eventually kicked his legs up on the couch and relaxed. Zayn is still on edge of Yaser coming home; he should’ve been here by now.

The only reason he isn’t is because he's probably forced to do a 24-hr duty at the base. Yaser should know to call when something like that happens, for Elisa's sake.

Zayn’s also on the edge because Griff is shaking his leg with a chicken nugget in his mouth. He looked like he wasn’t enjoying this. Zayn doesn’t expect him to; it's not like Griff wants to hang out with Zayn, let alone be left with him which has never happened for the sole reason that they don’t like each other.

“Ugh, Niall dating Olivia sucks.” Frank shakes his head, insistent on his opinion. “Didn’t realize how annoying she is. She's in my gym class and she always talks about him. Ask me about my day, why don’t you?”

“What a bad move, huh?” Griff scoffs.

“I reckon so.” Frank concurs.

“How about you, Zayn?” Griff juts his chin at him. “You like her?”

“Don’t know her.” Except he knows her full name and that she’s the president of student council. That doesn’t sound bad.

“You like Niall then?” Frank asks all of the sudden. Zayn tries not glare at Frank even though he really wants to.

“I really don’t. Not like that anyway.” Zayn denies very brutally with a scoff.

Frank suddenly wails which is his form of a laugh. His feet kick up as he cackles mockingly in Zayn’s face.

“We ain’t stupid, Zayn.” Griff scoffs from his seat beside Frank. “We saw what almost happened on New Year's.”

“Okay. Whatever. It isn’t anything to make a big deal of.” Zayn drops the charade. “What do you want me to do? Bring it all out there while he’s dating Olivia?”

“We should tell you since we haven’t been very honest to you,” Frank states so nonchalantly. Zayn would’ve pounced on the moment to push Frank’s buttons to tell him what he means—worse comes to worse, he would probably fight Frank and make up the next day. “We figured it's a good time to tell you since Niall’s out on his date.”

“About what?” Zayn's eyebrows raise.

“We told him that you don’t actually like him so, yeah.” Frankly tilts his head back and forth with a tight wince on his face. “It's not a bad thing. You could always just tell him you do.”

“Why would you tell him that?” Zayn weakly frowns in confusion. It's different when someone else says it—confirming his little white lies and manipulating it all into a massive mess that was never supposed to blow out of proportion.

“’Cause you ruined everything.” Griff doesn’t hesitate to tell him that. This conversation just got a lot more awkward. “It be our last high school year and your ass just had to mess everythin' up.”

“And how did I mess things up exactly?” Zayn grimaces sourly.

“Things just changed when you came along.” Frank has a nicer tone than Griff. The wince on his face proves to Zayn that it actually hurts him to explain. “It felt more crowded and the things we always did together, he wanted to bring you along. It just didn’t feel special anymore.” But then again, there’s nothing nice about people faking what they feel towards someone.

“If you guys didn’t want me around, you could’ve just said so. Or excluded me on purpose. That’s what everyone normally does.” Zayn huffs. Now he was getting angry. “But you lied to him.”

“I know that.” Griff groans. “That’s why we’re telling you the truth ‘cause we’re idiots. We realized he didn’t invite you around only because he likes you; he knew you and your sister needed friends. We haven’t been good ones to you  _or_  Niall.” Griff can’t even look at Zayn until he tightens his lips and says, “He’s dealing with a lot of shit, more than what he lets on. It looks like he’s got it all handled but he's just good at organizing and prioritizing. Despite it all, I think he's in a good mood ‘cause of you.”

Zayn’s face softened just as Griff finished. He couldn’t blame them for being protective of Niall and wanting things to stay the same. If he was in the same position back in New York, it would’ve been a lot worse. He could see the look on Griff and Frank's faces that they really were sorry about holding the truth from Niall. Frank's knee was bouncing as he was sitting on the couch, and Griff keeps blowing out air as he makes his cheeks bigger. All this time, Zayn thought Niall was the one who didn’t like him. There were signs that he did, but he was never sure of Niall. He's just so hard to read. How could you like someone and date someone else at the same time? Then the longer Zayn thought about it, he realized he'd do the same thing just to get over the name that’s stuck in his mind.

Zayn snaps when he hears a loud crunching sound; Frank opened a bag of chips from his bag of goodies. “So… How do you feel…?”

Zayn stammers as he tries to form words out. He can’t find any to make out a sentence. Blurting out an elongated ‘uhhhhh’ doesn’t seem fitting when Zayn also wants to cuss at them.

Eventually, it’s there, and he doesn’t stop. “I-I don’t know what you want me to do! I—don't know. You guys told him I don’t like him. And then he’s going out with Olivia so I—I fucking don’t know what anybody is feeling right now.” All he knows is his heart is racing because he’s overwhelmed by nearly everything right now.

He was okay not telling Niall for his own sake. He’s not okay with everybody else putting themselves in the narrative of his stupid life. He grates his words, “Ugh, I fucking hate you!” And starts mercilessly smacking Frank with a throw pillow.

“Just tell him how you feel!” Frank exclaims under Zayn’s wrath, shielding each strike with his arms. Like it's that easy.

“Yeah? He’s already dating Olivia, head ass!” Zayn gives a hard smack against Frank's head before he pulls back. “Who do you think I am? A fucking home wrecker?” When he finds his head clearing from the grey clouds caused by his so-called friends, he lets out a deep breath out. “I think you guys should go.”

“Are you coming to class tomorrow?” Frank queries.

“Does it matter?” Zayn grimaces. “You guys don’t even like me. No need to fake it.”

“I like you. Really.” Frank abruptly argued.

“If you say it one more time, you’ll probably combust so don’t suck up to me ‘cause I know now.” Zayn looks at them with a deadpan expression.

“Whether you hate us or not, you need to tell'im.” Griffin breaks into the conversation after sitting there in silence for some long. “We can go right now.”

“I don’t think you guys get it.” Zayn huffs at them. “Whether or not I want him to know, he's with Olivia right now.”

“You pussy. From the things I’ve heard you say and do, this shouldn’t scare you one bit.” Frank snickers and gestures at the window. “Olivia shouldn’t stop you from having dinner at Plum’s coincidentally the same time she’s on a date with Niall and her parents.” What’s worse, the clouds are clearing up; Zayn can actually go.

It doesn’t take much to convince Zayn to do something he wants to happen, especially when he knows it’s what he wants, even when his mind starts to tug him away by using irrationality. Just like that, Zayn’s back downstairs in less than three minutes after Frank’s threat, dressed to the six even Zayn’s being honest to himself.

Ever since he left his house with his so-called friends, he's sitting in the back seat of Griff's truck, contemplating whether or not he should even do this. He's way past his fears; instead, he's cautious to trust Griffin and Frank after all the things they confessed to him. He already felt like an outsider and hearing what Griffin has to say, it's like gas being poured into a flame within a forest. It spread back to Zayn’s distaste in moving, his need to distance himself, and his need to keep his walls up. And the truth is, he doesn’t want to go back to any of that. Sure, he's still complaining endlessly about Beaufort and keeping certain details of his life to prevent people from getting to actually know him, but it’s a hard habit to break.

He wants to say he's over all of it because there are days where he looks out into the far distance of the flat farmlands as he drives out there for no apparent reason, and finds nothing but a stretch of fields. Sometimes there’s cows grazing along the road, horses enjoying the sunshine, and it brings a different feeling to him than the city.

For him to have friends in a place full of different people, even if they didn’t like him at first, means something’s changed. It wasn’t one-sided—Zayn didn’t like any of them either. Not until he got over his high horse and let everything be the way they are did he start to like them. Not everything has to be his way—he was bound to get this one way or the other. Just like Yaser said, he shouldn’t let people ruin his life when he knows he wants a good one.

Being stuck in the back seat of a two-door truck, he didn’t notice how long the ride is downtown until he saw a Beaufort banner and realized they just arrived after twenty-five minutes.

Restlessly, he looked around, grimacing as to what they were doing. He's gone through his stages of his feelings. At the end of the road is acceptance, and constantly did his mind keep saying ‘fuck it' as a preparation to get over his fears. So easily, did he accept he's going to be telling Niall that despite his endeavor not to like him, he does.

“How should I do this?” Zayn asks as Griffin pulled over by the curb with a fire hydrant next to them.

“You know how Niall is.” Griffin laughs. “Romantic,  great lyricist, very understanding—use poetic imagery, make him swoon.”

“Will you be waiting here?” The last thing he wants to do is call Yaser for a ride when he’s supposed to be grounded.

“No. If things work out, Niall will just give you a ride himself.” Frank shrugs. “Farewell!”

Under his breath, struggling to get out from behind Frank’s pushed seat, he repeats ‘fuck’ over and over, clenching his teeth until he's standing out on the sidewalk. People going in are dressed to their 6’s as well with their casual outfits. And for some reason, Zayn is horrifically dressed in his jeans and a black graphic t-shirt with skeletons on fire on both sides of his chest with his thick, jean jacket covering half of the prints on his shirt. In New York, it'd be okay. In the  Bible Belt, not so much.

Right when he walks through the door, it's exactly as he thought; everyone thinks he's a devil worshipper. The host's eyes widened at his torso before she looked up at him. A brown guy wearing black with skeletons on fire in a very Christian state? Smart.

He gave a tight grin before silently letting her know someone's already here—here with someone else, that is. But Zayn’s already got a plan: he'll find Niall, pull him aside, tell Nial how he feels, and leave. That way, Niall can do whatever he wants with that information and Zayn can go home and deal with the consequences afterwards.

With the restaurant being so spacious and busy, and his shirt attraction all unwanted attention, looking for Niall isn't so easy. He walked in deeper to the back, turned back to walk towards the entrance so he could ask the host if she’s seen Niall. Zayn’s confident that Niall’s known so well around town, he could just say his name and everyone will match his face to it. Even so, he could mention that he’s looking for someone at the mayor's table that he didn’t actually get to see when he wandered in. This was only adding into his anxiety.

He doesn’t wear glasses so pinpointing Niall out from the rest of the people should be a piece of cake. It ends up feeling like a piece of shit when half an hour's passed already and he still hasn’t seen him nor Olivia. Did he lie about their date?

Zayn eventually quit looking for Niall inside Plum's, leaving with a gloomy look on his face to match the gloomy weather outside. Thankfully, it stopped raining, and the winds found the time to calm down. Still, it's going to be a walk of shame heading home.

Maybe it’s a sign that he shouldn’t do this after all. For one thing, he doesn’t have the words to say how he feels. But then again, it’s about time he find some before he's stuck pining for someone who’s not supposed to feel the same way for him.

Frank must’ve jinxed his good wishes. Instead of sitting in Niall’s car, he's sitting in Yaser's car after he called him for a ride. He doesn’t feel creative enough to make up an excuse as to why he was downtown. Yaser won’t take any as far as he knows. That’s why they’re sitting in silence with Yaser staring straight at the road and Zayn is sitting with his arms crossed.

“Can I say something?” Yaser asks calmly.

He could sound as nice as he wants, Zayn still hates when they have one on one's.

“You’re eighteen. I'm not going to ground you every time you do something I disagree with.” Yaser explains. “It’s probably what you’ve been waiting to hear. But, you have to start thinking things through, think more critically. You have to know when it’s the right time to say what has to be heard or the actions you have to take. You have to learn control and discipline on your own.”

“But that time Elisa was getting harassed by those girls, you didn’t want me doing anything.” Zayn grumbles.

“I didn’t say for you not to do anything. I said it wasn’t the right time. It was a Veteran’s Day memorial.”

“But I can’t control the environment when something happens.” Zayn argues.

“You don’t need to control it; use it to your advantage.”

“You can’t apply your military strategies to this. No way.” Zayn starts to laugh scornfully.

“Your mother told me that advice, actually.” He shares.

The only reason Zayn was able to tolerate talking to Yaser throughout the rest of the ride home was because of his mom. The last decent conversation they had about her was five months ago. It may not seem too long but that’s really all they have in common with one another.

Zayn wouldn’t say Yaser wasn’t trying to be a good father when he’s got no other father from the past to compare. Lacking a father figure from the start doesn’t give him much room to trust any man who comes into his life, ordering him what to say and do. And for his mom to marry a man who thrives off order and control? How fucking exciting.

But Zayn has a list of things Yaser has done for him. Though he may not be able to count them all, it easily speaks for itself. Yet, one of things he'll never forget is Yaser flying Ryan down to Beaufort for Zayn’s birthday. He didn’t need to and shouldn’t have.

Zayn quickly left the car as soon as Yaser parked the car in the driveway. He waited for the second door to shut from Yaser’s side and eventually saw him still sitting inside with his seatbelt on.

“Listen, I'm only dropping you off. I’m having late dinner with Elisa.”

“What am I going to eat?” Zayn narrows his eyes. Is Yaser seriously going to leave him home alone, take his daughter out for dinner and not him? He just mentally complimented Yaser in his head and he’s just going to do this?

“Figure it out.” Yaser advises him just as Elisa opens the door with a big smile on her face. It looks like it’s just to annoy him.

He thought she was sleeping this whole time. She’s been faking it for some reason.

“Have fun!” Elisa straightened out his jacket.

Whatever. He’s not going to focus on the fact that his family is full of snakes. He'll have supper one way or another.

Data should’ve showed her face by now. He’s already got one shoe off and still no sign of a welcome. It would help him out just a little bit, especially when he’s tired from driving up to Charlottetown and down not seeing Niall where he said he'd be.

“Hey.” The voice suddenly interrupts the quietness of the air. It's not just any voice at all.

Zayn will remember this moment when he finds himself halting at the sight of Niall staring. They both stared for a long time. The only one who did something was Niall, who slowly broke out into a tight-lipped smile that even his eyes smiled.

He’s holding Data from his front legs with him standing on the other two. He looks awkward but he seems to be enjoying Niall’s unexpected company. Niall makes Data wave at him with both legs and eventually makes him laugh.

“What are you doing here?” Zayn asks with a faint grin on his face.

“I’m here to see you.” Niall's smile gets tighter.

“I thought you were on your date.” Zayn says dubiously.

Niall shakes his head eagerly. “No, I sort of wasn’t telling the truth.”

Zayn figured that out when he walked in and noticed Niall kicking it back on his couch. So much for meeting her family. He wasn’t having dinner with her—he was never going to.

Niall winces at him afterwards. “But  _you’re_  grounded. Where did  _you_  go?”

“I had to say something so I went to Plum's.” Zayn swallows. “Maybe if everyone was there, I wouldn't have. I would never put you in such an awful spot.”

“What is it?”

“I wasn’t supposed to go and see you.” Zayn furrows his eyebrows together. “I'm supposed to be grounded for getting punched in the face. But I felt like this was my one chance to tell you that everything I’ve said was wrong. Yes, we're different, but I like you regardless. I meant everything I said in the car and I just want you to know that.”

Niall's expression is gentle. “Why ain’t you say anything way before today when you know that I feel the same way about you?”

He doesn’t have to explain what he means for Zayn to know what he’s about to bring up. And as much as it brings him satisfaction to know where this is leading to, he shakes his head in disagreement. “Niall, I wouldn’t tell you to call it off with Olivia without a real reason.” Zayn tells him. “Because I honestly don’t know how you feel, the same way you didn’t know for me. None of us said anything.”

In utter disbelief, Niall’s laugh sounds dry. “If I ain’t make the way I feel about you clear as water, I'm a real idiot.”

“You are.” Zayn scoffs. “But so am I for not saying anything.”

“You got no fault in this, Zayn.”

“Me not saying anything is the problem.” Zayn needs to make that clear. “Because I knew I've always liked you. I just couldn’t find myself to accept it or do anything about it when you’re different from the people I’ve liked.”

“I know. You said that. You also called me an apple. I ain’t so sure what kind either.” Niall tells him in a flat tone.

“You’re my favourite one if that makes you feel better. Red delicious.”

Suddenly, there’s a sour expression on Niall’s face. “Those are awful! Are you serious? They’re always mushy.” He groans, holding his face with his hand. “I’m insulted.”

“You need to check your apples before you pick them. They’re fine.”

“Do yourself a favor and get them Ambrosias.”

Zayn laughs quietly and shakes his head. He can’t lose his train of thought. “The point is, Olivia’s a fucking granny Smith but I'm green grapes. And if you put green apples and grapes together, they make an awesome cocktail.” Zayn grimaces in embarrassment. He suddenly takes a long swig of the drink he left from before to hide behind.

Niall starts to smile and laugh. Once his head got to thinking, it faded.

Niall exhales quietly. “Have you ever gotten that feeling where you have no clue what to do, so you listen to people telling you what you should be doing? But, it's not what you want. And you can’t help but think to do it anyway because that's all you were given to work with?”

“Sort of.” Zayn tries to think more in depth. “You forget to consider other options for some damn reason. Like, your depth of thinking suddenly got shallow.”

“Exactly! Yes!” Niall agrees enthusiastically, like someone finally understands him. “Everyone told me to go out with Olivia because it was for the best. Truly, there ain’t words to explain why I was with Olivia when I don’t have any true feelings for her.”

Niall's not obligated to spill what's been on his mind when this is really Zayn's moment to for being so abrasive and distant. And it took him until now since November to say something. Zayn doesn’t know where it’s going but he sees an opportunity to mention his main concern to Niall.

Zayn wouldn’t blame anyone for going out with someone else if the chances with the one that you really liked drop from slim to none. He won’t tell Niall the rest.

“The boys told me you wouldn’t feel the same way because you’re lookin' for somethin’ that I don’t have.” Niall shrugs despondently. “Why be with someone who doesn’t have anythin' that you need?” He asks hypothetically.

Zayn’s expression goes soft. “Niall, I know you know that isn’t the case.”

“A little.” Niall confesses. “I guess that’s why I took a shot with Olivia to get over the disappointment. But, like I said, your eyes speak louder than your words and you’re as loud as a riled up dog in the mornin'.” He laughs afterwards.

“Whatever I do is probably better anyway;” Zayn mumbles. “Words should be off-limits to me since I called you an apple.”

Niall bursts out in a louder laugh. “No! Zayn, it’s good!” It only takes him a second to reach Zayn by the entrance before Niall’s hand holds Zayn’s cheek and presses his lips on the other cheek right before he pulls him into an embrace.

He relaxed into it, wrapped his arms tight around Niall and let his head rest in the curve of his neck. All that he’s thinking about is how great that this didn’t all happen at Plum's with Olivia and her parents pushed off to the side. If it did, Zayn will hate himself for making someone feel inadequate—especially when Olivia genuinely does like Niall.

But he’s in good spirit right now because he got what he wanted to say out; there isn’t a heavy weight on his shoulder when he sees Niall anymore.

“I'm really mad at the boys.” Niall rolls his eyes. “I don't know if I can trust them again.”

“Give them some time. This isn’t worth losing your friends over it. But what matters is what you feel yourself. People can’t control that.” Zayn advises him. At the end of the day, as much as one hears all these different alternatives to different situations, they’re the one who only really knows what to do for themselves. Such as this, Niall is the only one who knows what’s good for himself, and nobody else can take that away from him.

What would send him over the moon right now is dinner but he wasn’t in the mood to leave again and Niall doesn’t seem to want to either.

When they got to the kitchen to look for food, Niall hovered around the island counter, elbows perched on the surface. Zayn pulled the fridge door open and that’s when Niall's face lit up as he rushed by Zayn’s side.

“I handed your dad a dozen of eggs when I stopped by earlier.” Niall looks inside the fridge. “Figured I've known you for so long, you should start getting some and not because I want to schmooze your dad so I could come over all the time.” He laughs at his own joke. “Me and Frank’s family are tight as a rope. I give them chicken eggs. In return, I get Frank’s friendship.”

“I can't believe he’s worth half a dozen of chicken eggs.” Zayn muses quietly just as he places the new carton of eggs on the counter. “But what about your place? I can’t go there?”

“Unless you’re willing to work the yard, you’re welcome to my home anytime.” He grins tightly.

“I have to work to visit your house?”

“No. But that’s what I usually do when I'm at home.”

“I already told you—if you need help, I'm absolutely free to come over.”

“Noted.”

“Alright.” Zayn opens the carton of eggs. “Now, I hope you like eggs and toast for dinner because that’s as complicated as I get.”

* * *

The next day, Zayn finds himself at Niall’s house, doing exactly what he said he would always be doing—maintaining the chickens. Since it’s winter, he doesn’t have to do the garden. Once March starts, he's going to clean up the whole area. Each year, they grow herbs and a few vegetables such as carrots, beets, tomatoes, and sweet potato. The fruits that they grow are strawberries and peaches. Picking all of those in the summer is quite rewarding because they haul quite a lot that Niall’s family are able to share somebody the things that they’ve grown at their church.

Niall's got Zayn doing an easy task just because Zayn’s only a beginner at this. With the bag of feed, he tosses it close to Niall’s five chickens hanging out on the thing blanket of snow. The first time he threw it directly at them and Niall shrieked abruptly before he took the bag back and demonstrated it for the second time. 

Meanwhile, Niall’s checking on the heated waterer that he made with a 5 gallon bucket, 3-foot pipe heating cable, duct tape, poultry water nipples, a clay pot to catch dripping water, and a bird bath heater his grandpa picked up on the side of the road. He made it for the chickens because of the winter weather; the water tends to freeze when it gets below zero. After that, there are a lot of other tasks he has to do like cleaning the coop and their yard, add a new swinging suet cake for the chickens to peck at when they’re bored, and put petroleum jelly on their combs. Luckily, he already collected the eggs early in the morning and found no cracks on them.

As Zayn tossed the feed, he stares across the yard towards the porch to see how Niall’s doing. Truthfully, he wasn’t worried about anything—he knows Niall’s got everything handled. He just can’t stop thinking about how long he let his crush on Niall go until he told him—called him an apple to really let him know he's not fucking about anymore. That really solidified everything. But no matter when he’s able to see Niall, his insides flip and it kills him at just how weak he gets.

“You’re throwing too much!” Niall exclaims at Zayn from the porch.

“S-sorry!” Zayn stammers nervously and tries to wrap the bag of feed shut. After shutting the gate, he walks over to the small shed across the coop to store the bag inside where all the other tools are.

He sits on the stairs of the porch, leaning his head against the railing as he tries to catch his breath. It may be cold today, but he’s sweating—face glistening from all that throwing. There’s always a day in a month that Yaser uses to clean the entire house in and out; right now, Zayn feels like he just did that, even when all he did was feed the chickens. Probably because he had to fill it up first from a bigger bag and it bears quite a bit of weight.

He must’ve made it obvious how tired he was because Niall came over with a bottle of cold water, sitting right beside him on the steps. It's only 9 in the morning and the grass is still wet from the dew. Niall usually works from 7am on the weekends but he let Zayn sleep in until 8am so he could come over and help Niall out. And he didn’t complain a word at all about waking up early or how annoying it is to clean up chicken shit. Niall can barely contain the giddiness that he’s feeling watching this boy from the city work in his chicken coop and anywhere behind the fence.

“This is where the band brainstorms a new sound for a song.” Niall shares with him. “Makes it a special spot. Well, a lot of things make it special.”

“Am I in the band?” Zayn grimaces. They’re going to regret that decision. He can barely wake up to go to school, how can he come for rehearsals?

“No.” Niall laughs quietly. “But I finished my first song here. I spent three weeks polishing my writing and I eventually sat here for five hours with my guitar and found the right sound for it. And it was so damn magical! Like you know when you didn’t think you can do it but you do it even better than you were expecting?” There’s a twinkle in his eyes as he beams about the moment and a faint smile from Zayn as he hears the excitement in his voice.

It must’ve been magical for Zayn to feel a little of it now himself. “Mhmm.” He hums in agreement as he nods.

“Right.” Niall blurts out and clears his throat. “I didn’t do this right the first time and a little bit of me regrets it. And I figured that maybe it’s because I’m meant to do it properly.”

Zayn leans off the railing before he sits back with his arms holding him up from behind, turns his head in Niall's direction, head tilted close to Niall’s as he quietly asks, “What do you have in mind?” Zayn might know what’s on his mind because it’s been on his since they skipped class together.

Niall turns towards him as if he’s leaning on one side with his right arm supporting him. He reaches across Zayn’s lap so he could hold Zayn’s waist as he leans in. “I wanna kiss you for a real long time,” He says huskily and with confidence that made Zayn shiver a little—especially because he’s so close against him. “To make up for all the moments that I didn’t take.”

He’s never heard anyone talk to him like that. Everyone tends to tease at what they want, but never so blunt that it scared him—in a good way. Regardless, Niall’s just always good with words; combine that with the ability to have an expressive face, it's intimidating and attractive altogether.

Zayn gave a weak nudge with his chin, lips slightly parted and pouty for Niall to take the bait and he quickly did; pressed his lips between as soft as he can. And he can feel Niall’s smile from the hard push against his lips against his the second time in.

The apple farm was the image on Zayn’s mind as they kissed—with the 60 degree weather and sun on his skin, the scent of apples wafting in the cool air—then there’s Niall with his arm around him like they’ve been best friends for years, and maybe something more underneath all the many inches Zayn left between them on purpose and the moments where they were left all alone, talking about the world as if they got that shit all figured out.

Despite still being naïve, Zayn feels like Einstein when Niall’s around—it feels like he’s got everything figured out without any problems entailing. Late homework? Niall would say to do it anyway when doing it late is better than never. Everything that was a problem becomes a minor irritation which is exactly what they realistically are. Right now, he’s got none, and he won’t worry about what he's got nothing of.

Niall presses his lips onto Zayn's, softly at first, then just a little bit harder. He's amazingly warm that he forgot how cold it is, giving off a really nice feeling from his hand on Niall's neck.

And they kissed, and kissed, nearly for an hour and even that wasn’t everything Niall or Zayn wanted to get out. It went on until Niall pulled his chin back from Zayn and broke out into a laugh that only the two of them could hear.

* * *

There was nothing Zayn could do to change everyone’s minds about their spring break plans when they’re already on their fourth day. Even then, when they told Zayn about this tradition, he kept his complaints to himself since it was Niall’s idea and everybody’s last year together. Camping? Not in a million years—only if the world is burning from an apocalypse, then he'll have no choice but to camp. But at Myrtle Beach? Now, that doesn’t sound so bad at all.

There were a lot of them that they had to bring 6 tents since everyone loves their personal space, although they didn’t actually have any of that at all, especially in the tent. However, Zayn didn’t really need much personal space since he’s sharing a tent with Niall. They used most of the area for the campfire and a place to cook. At first, they tried to sleep altogether in the massive tent Griff brought some they could use less tents. The tent is able to take up to eight people which has already proven to be a mess when Kayla farts a lot in her sleep, Frank kicks, Griff screams in his sleep, and Connor likes pranking people with shaving cream. Zayn claims he doesn’t move around a lot but he's gone and hit Niall seven times already and probably had a sleep-fight with Frank.

As terrible as sleeping conditions was that first night, Zayn wouldn’t have skipped out on this trip. If he did, he wouldn’t be making breakfast with Niall. He would have had to wait years for that to really happen. And it's been good. Zayn's still annoying but Niall’s the only one who can shut him up, bring him down a level or two. He has fun doing so anyway—he still enjoys bugging Zayn until he’s deeply annoyed by Niall.

On the beach with a blanket over his legs to protect him from mosquitos and a towel under him to protect him from getting sand up his shorts, he's watching his friends play a game of soccer and Niall’s dog Spud collect rocks. Zayn can’t play sports so he's benched off-side for the sake of everyone, especially himself. He takes pictures instead.

Limping over an injury from five minutes ago, Niall got settled beside him as soon as he subbed with Frank. He pulled out a can of mosquito spray from his backpack and held the button down longer than what anyone would usually expect. It was as if he poured half the bottle all over them. The gesture is nice, but Zayn’s coughing his lungs out and waving the mist away from his face.

“One of ‘em got me on my neck.” Niall itches the side of his neck. “If I was Van Helsing, I would'a shot the damned thing.”

“I’ve got ten just on my legs already.” Zayn picks up the near empty can. “But I'm sure this will stop them.”

“You’re welcome, sweet pea.” Niall gives a sharp puff. “You know you gotta be confident about it. Once they smell it, they’ll puke at the sight of you and fly off.” He continues on, pushing more against him. “You’re like dessert to'em.”

Zayn gripped Niall's hand over his lap and a grin formed on Niall's face as his legs relaxed and bent a little.

“It only took you eight months to fall for my charm.” Niall tightened his grip, laughing from deep within his chest so he could annoy Zayn.

“You say that as if it took someone else longer than eight months.” Zayn jokingly grimaces at Niall.

“There ain’t anybody else.” He assures Zayn with a quick peck over his lips. “I liked you ever since that day at the festival when I saw you dancin' it out with your sister.” Niall laughs quietly. “That’s why I was baffled when you said you were local.”

“I thought you just felt guilty for spilling my drink on me.” Zayn huffs.

“I may be nice, but not entirely enough to be handing out free t-shirts.”

“You’re a saint.”

“Why thank you, darlin'.”

One thing Niall's learned—it's that Zayn’s actually very touchy if he really knows you. Sometimes, he'll grip someone’s shoulder as some form of acknowledgement or squish their cheeks too annoy them. In front of everyone else, Zayn manages not to make him and Niall the annoying couple. The most he'll ever do is have his arm around Niall's shoulder with his hand over his collar bone and even then, it seems like they’re just good friends if you don’t know them.

“Niall, sub back in!” Griffin heavily exhales with one eye squeezed shut as he runs towards the couple sitting together.

“Oh goodness me,” Niall groans with his body hunching over, rolling on his side before he eventually gets up. “Play nice, boys. Dad will be back.” He sprints away, wobbling like a penguin just for the fun of it.

“Please don’t call yourself dad.” Griff grimaces up at Niall who just laughs at his friend’s demise.

Zayn passed a water bottle to Frank who thanked him by reaching over his shoulder, giving him a good grip and swaying him from left to right.

Zayn could say they were on a better than they were before he and Niall started dating. Niall must’ve said something to keep him from pouncing at Zayn or Griffin realized he wasn’t so bad for someone who’s from the city. Their conversations tend to be dry and forced but the two of them knew the other person is willing to try and get over the shit they put between each other.

“So, you really don’t play any sports?”

“I wouldn’t survive two minutes in this game.” Zayn scoffs. Niall had to sit out because Travis accidentally kneed his thigh; there’s a bruise on it right now. And Griff is currently sitting out because nights Kayla smacked him in the face. Why would Zayn involve himself in activities such as this?

“But you box people.” Griffin snorts.

Zayn shrugs smugly. “That’s different.”

By accident, Connor ends up kicking the ball off-side, towards the edge of the beach. Spud, who’s busy sniffing around, gets a quick whiff of the ball and sprints right after it. All of them call Spud over, chasing him like a child running around the yard, but he’s too busy nudging the ball towards the sea, tail happily wagging. He’s finally found something interesting to do.

Niall’s the one struggling the most, constantly clicking his tongue and calling Spud's name while everyone else is watching and cackling. Finally, Spud finds another distraction—a bird flying over his head that serves as a perfect opportunity to grab him by the collar. Kayla grabs the ball away from Spud before Niall jumps in and holds Spud back by his collar. Happily, Spud walks back with Niall who’s hunched over to match Spud's height. Zayn’s practically crying of laughter at the sight of Niall playfully scolding Spud—the dog has no idea what he’s saying.

“Griff!” Niall scoffs. “Please watch Sputty.”

“Zayn can watch Sputnik for you.” Griffin gestures at Zayn using his head.

“Now, I truly love Zayn but he’s quite soft on animals.” Niall pouts at Spud breathing loudly with his tongue hanging out. “Spud knows how to get what he wants. There ain’t no doubt about Zayn giving in.”

Zayn doesn’t think he’s that soft on animals. Is it because he let’s Data sleep on him? It’s normal; cats sleep on anything they want all the time.

“Alright, sit him down, lover boy.” Griffin presses his palm down on Spud's head and the other palm on the lower back.

“What?” Niall turns back towards Griffin.

“You just said you love Zayn.” He laughs quietly.

Zayn didn’t catch what Niall said because he was focused on Spud who seems happy to be in the middle of everything. Not until Griff mentioned it did he look up with a slight frown and Niall quickly averted his eyes from him.

“Don’t turn green, Griff. I love you too.” Niall chuckles.

“So you  _don’t_  love Zayn then?” There’s a slight tone of accusation from Griffin. He doesn’t know whether he’s playing around or really pushing Niall right under the spotlight and keep him there until he’s burning.

It’s Zayn’s first time seeing Niall annoyed. Personally, it hurt him and he didn’t feel like ever annoying Niall again, even when Niall knows it's only to make him laugh. Words were on the tip of Zayn’s tongue to tell Griff to let it go but Niall’s quick when it comes to covering his own tracks. “I didn’t say that either. What’s goin' on?”

“Nothing.” Griff laughs. “I’m teasin' you.”

“You’re always foolin' with me.” Niall turns back to the direction he’s walking, leaving Spud with Griff and Zayn.

Once he was back in the game, he turned to Griff, scowling at him while he let out a deep breath.

“You really need to watch your tone.” Zayn advises. “You’ll get yourself in trouble asking so many questions like that.”

“Well, ain’t you curious as to why he didn’t say he loves you? If he does, he’d just flat out and say it.”

“Seriously, Griff.” Zayn elbows him. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Whatever y'all say.” Griff starts to get up. “I’m gonna take a nap.”

Zayn stayed to watch Spud for Niall. From the sidelines, Zayn could see it’s an easy kick to the net from where Niall is standing. The goalie for the other team is Frank and he’s the idiot who’s gone and left the net wide open. But when he takes the shot, it hits the rim of the net and Niall dramatically falls over on his back, groaning with his face behind his hands. From the way Frank crouched down by his side, concern plastered over his face as Niall sobbed in frustration, Zayn knows that this isn’t about the game.

The loyal dog that he is, Spud breaks it for Niall, joyfully wagging his tail as he tries to lick his owner’s face. Zayn wants to bring him back and away from the game, but he also wants to watch Spud and Niall mess around together. The knot of frustration on his face disappeared when he tried to calm Spud down and press his face on his. And when he looked over at Zayn, Niall gave him a half smile before he looked away and hugged Spud; leaving Zayn feeling empty and confused.

In the evening, they ate around the fire; with Kayla, Frank made barbeque beef ribs and heated up some pork and beans over the flame. He neither ate pork or pork and beans for that matter so he kept away from the beans since it reminds him of prison food. He didn’t say it out loud; Griff would throw the hot tin cans they put over the fire at him if he poked at southern culture food. Less than usual, he still pokes at their accents subconsciously.

While everyone had beer in their styrofoam cups with a 2L coke bottle set aside to add onto the façade, Zayn and Griff were the only ones not drinking. Drinking underage in public was an issue that Zayn set aside in the back of his mind; it was dark and they were pouring drinks from inside the tent so no one would see. What’s on top of his list of things to be cautious about is Niall ten cups in. The cups are small so he could even go up to fifteen cups—it would equate to eight cans and he’d still be alright. By alright, it refers to Niall not having any problems while he’s drunk. Tonight isn’t that night.

Niall is Niall, people would say. A happy kind of guy who’s willing to do anything for his friends and put them first over himself. It’s both a strength and flaw for him. Maybe not many people could see it but Zayn can see when things are going south for him. As expressive as he is when he’s having a good time, he’s as expressionless when something’s on his mind and when he’s trying to pass himself off as okay.

He knows it has something to do with what Griff said, but there isn’t anyhing specific for Zayn to talk about with Niall. He could ask Niall if it’s because Griff put him on the spot and it probably might. It also might have something to do with himself if he has to drink it away tonight. Sure, it'll pass him by tomorrow. But it could just drive back to bite him in the ass.

As they’re sitting on a log the boys carried over their site, he slips his hand over Niall’s forearm until Zayn’s holding his wrist. Niall turned towards him like he forgot he's sitting beside him, brought his free hand over the side of Zayn’s neck before he kissed him on his cheek.

“Can we talk?” Zayn rubs his thumb on Niall’s pressure point. “Like, at the beach.” He’s not one to bring up conversations that have to do anything with their relationship but someone has to do it, especially when Niall’s on the other end, dealing with something.

“G'na some mosquito repellent before we go.” It’s like Niall’s got the spray bottle beside him all the time.

They went right to the edge where the waves crashed into the beach, far from the others where they won’t be able to yell absurdities and teases at them.

“What’s on your mind?” Niall stands right at the edge of where the water rolls in so his Birkenstock sandals don’t get wet.

“I wanna talk about what’s on yours.” Zayn tells him. “I know what Griff said bothered you. And I know he’s your best friend but you’re allowed to be mad at him and talk about these things with any of us.”

“It just caught me off guard.” Niall spills. “It wasn’t like I'm goin' to be spilling everythin' about you on the spot.”

“That's what I’m saying.” Zayn agrees.

“Because it’d be way too fast.” Niall continues. “For me to say I love you right now—it's embarrassing.”

A year ago, Zayn would have said the same thing. And now that he’s feeling a little bit of it, it's far from embarrassing.

Zayn’s expression softens. There’s a weak twist within his chest that makes his throat just as tight. “You're going somewhere else now.”

“You said I can speak to you about this.” He fussed.

“About what? I don’t think you even know what you’re talking about right now.” Zayn retorted back, trying not to rile Niall up. He does know what Niall’s referring to, he just doesn’t want to discuss something that neither of them want to talk about. Niall especially doesn’t want to talk about how he feels and that’s alright. But he doesn’t have to be so annoyed that he brought it up.

“I don’t! I'm just pissed. Would it matter if I had said I do that moment?” Niall huffs with a choleric expression. Quietly, he mutters to himself, “I don’t even know if you feel the same way.”

Zayn sighs softly—that was something he didn’t want to hear. For both their sakes, he doesn’t acknowledge it. “You’re not supposed to do anything you don’t want to.” He tells Niall with a voice of affection.

Niall rubs his face and holds both his cheeks. “Like I said, it caught me off guard and I didn’t know what to do. Because whatever I do say it’s just going to be overlooked.” Niall shakes his head. “But I'm fine. I'm fine, Zayn. I drank too much for my own good today so I'll sleep it off.”

He does what he always does best—push everything on his side so everyone else doesn’t have to worry about it. Zayn doesn’t want him to make a habit out of it, and he probably won’t listen to Zayn if he tells him to stop carrying everything on his shoulder.

Instead, he just hugs him around his waist with one arm right before he ducks his head down and presses his lips over Niall's. Normally, he tastes like mint gum. Right now, he tastes like Stella beer.

“You always know how to make me feel better.” Niall mutters between their lips, his fingers pressing down his nape. He pushed their mouths back and they continued for several more minutes.

He says that because there isn’t a lot Zayn could say to fix whatever is going on.

Yet, seeing as how it’s their last day camping tomorrow, there is something he  _could_  say. Niall mentioned that they do something fun as a tradition to end the night. It could help him out.

He let Niall sleep first. After all that beer, it wasn’t hard for him to knock out. Once he started snoring, Zayn left the tent and back to the pit where everyone else is. When he got there, they were all laughing at Kayla because of her scolding everyone to eat dinner earlier. It reminded everyone of their grandmothers, badgering everyone to eat as soon as the beans were done.

Sitting beside Frank and Kayla ends up being very entertaining. He brought his guitar and he’s got it on his lap, figuring out chords for a song he just can’t seem to get right. He strums a note an octave lower and he scowls at the sound.

Kayla narrows her eyes at Frank, scolding him that it’s supposed to be D in the second octave. The nagging grandma makes it appearance once again. The only thing Zayn can do is laugh at Frank; he turns away from Kayla and looks at Zayn with his nostrils flared and face crinkled in disgust. He’s easily caught by Kayla and gets his knee smacked by a roll of paper.

“Are you going to sing?” Zayn looks at them wide-eyed with eagerness.

“ _All_  of us are, Zayn.” Frank mischievously cackles. He's being ugly right now; the kind that you laugh at and not fight, even though Zayn really wants to hit him.

“It's a tradition that we do every year when we go camping. On the last day, we all sing a song at the fire. Some people from other camps join us. It gets really loud and fun!” Kayla cheers.

“But I don’t sing.” Zayn tells them as if it’s obvious.

“So? Griffin doesn’t sing but he’s one of the favorites every year.” Frank explains.

“Any songs in mind?” Kayla smiles at him.

“No, not really.” Zayn mumbles.

“What’s your favorite song then?”

“Doo Wop by Lauryn Hill.” Zayn grimaces. “But she raps the song. I can’t sing, let alone rap.” He sits forward with his hand holding his chin. “What’s everyone else singing?”

“You’ll learn tomorrow.” Kayla stands up, trying to crack her spine. “It’s usually a secret. I'll tell you one thing though—they're usually fun songs we can have a laugh over.”

“Really, your boyfriend didn’t tell you about picking a song?” Frank snorts at him.

Zayn's eyes narrow and he pretends to frown. “You know his name.”

“I know. I just like teasing you.” Frank laughs quietly. “How are you two doing?”

“We could be better.” Zayn shrugs. “Not that we're fighting.” He leans closer towards Kayla and Frank. “Someone kind of teased him about the way he feels about me and now he’s all guarded up about it because he’s embarrassed or something. And he shouldn’t because it's fine. Of all people, he should know that.”

“Aw, poor Niall.” Kayla sighs. “There’s nothing embarrassin' about bein’ in love.”

And there’s a way to fix that feeling of embarrassment. After all, it was only Niall that was put on the spot; Zayn wasn’t the one who said he loved Niall—not out loud anyway.

Fixing this starts off with Niall’s favourite song.

* * *

At the campfire on their last night, Niall's the one who manages to make them that annoying couple that no one surprisingly finds annoying. The darkness of the night has something to do with not being able to see everyone—not being able to see the two of them kissing all the time.

Zayn didn’t bring up yesterday’s conversation. They mostly spoke about what Zayn would be singing for tonight’s last campfire. Niall joked that Zayn's a triple threat because he could dance, sing, and model.  Zayn is sure the third threat isn’t modeling but no one has seen Zayn act just yet. Since he’s pretty good looking, model works for him. For now. People who grow up good looking from when they were young tend to age ugly. He hopes that’s not the case for him; it's something to think about on another day.

He can’t say what he’ll be singing and avoided the topic the rest of the day. Instead, all he did during the day was take more pictures.

But tonight, the excitement is all at the campfire. Kayla introduced Zayn to strangers that eventually led to them being acquaintances. She explained how they were here last year at the campfire and came back for another show.

Everyone got a few drinks in just to give themselves confidence boost. As much as he wanted to drink so he could build himself up and not puke, Zayn panicked internally instead and stayed away from the drinks like always. Niall did too, and eventually went quiet.

The first one to sing was Connor. He started off the night with  _Stand by Me,_  a cheesy song that got everyone to have their arms around the next person’s shoulder and sway together. It was like a hippie fest with Travis' satiric cover of  _Wonderwall_  and Elisa's dramatic performance of  _A Man in the Mirror_ with her friend Eve all following up with Connor's. Behind the warm colours of the fire, Zayn could see everyone getting into it. Then it suddenly went country with songs like  _Every Rose Has its Thorns_ by a group named Poison covered by Travis, another satiric cover of If _I Had $1,000,000_ by Frank with his southern accent thickened up to the point Zayn didn’t even know what he was singing.

And everyone would think Niall would cover some 70s rock song by a group from California with a heavy influence of country because that’s what Zayn was thinking. He heard the first few notes and immediately his jaw dropped and his eyes narrowed at him.  _Love Story?_  Really?

He starts it off mockingly looking off into the distance. Eventually he started bobbing his head, playfully shrugging his shoulders to the beat, singing animatedly like he’s in some sort of pain being in love. It's like a karaoke party. It  _is_  a karaoke party.

“…  _I was begging you, please, don't goooo!_ ” He belts out as he bangs his head and shouts at the crowd to sing right before the second verse. “ _And I saaaid, Romeo take me somewhere we can be alone! I'll be waiting, all there's left to do is run, you'll be the prince and I'll be the princess, it's a love story baby just say yes. Romeo save me, they're trying to tell me how to feel. This love is difficult, but it's reee-aaal! Don't be afraid, we'll make it out of this mess. It's a love story, baby just say yasssss._ "

It seems like everyone’s covers were all jokes. That doesn’t make Zayn feel so good. Although that is the point of him doing this song. He'd sing a song by Boys II Men if he didn’t have a point to prove specifically to Niall while everyone watches.

There are some people that still need to sing but Zayn was next after Griff's atrocious performance of  _No Scurbs._ They were right about him not being able to sing at all whatsoever. Truly, that’s okay—not everyone Zayn’s been hearing sing along, like himself, can’t sing either.

Frank’s got his guitar, strumming a light ballad for Zayn because he can’t play any instruments to save his life. He was freaking out; constantly swallowing down his lump of anxiety, each second passing with everyone’s eyes on him and Frank. He’s singing a song he’s never heard of until today, and it was a good song. Zayn rarely agrees with Niall’s music taste because they’re just so different compared to his. He’s not going to hold Niall against it, they’re just opinions. But this song he’s singing is rather soft and a tearjerker. It did make him smile just a little bit because it reminds him of himself. So to cover one of Niall’s favourite songs as if he'll do anybody justice with his voice? It's a bad move. He just won’t look at him.

Frank plays the seemingly long introduction first. Not even five second in, Zayn is just opening a wrinkled piece of paper filled with the lyrics, Frank is already elbowing him to start. His mind advises him to do it ‘just like they practiced’. He takes one deep breath and starts to sing off the paper:

 _It's amazing how you can speak right to my heart_  
Without saying a word you can light up the dark  
Try as I may I could never explain what I hear when you don't say a thing

Thankfully, Frank helps him out with the chorus because it was something he couldn’t get right. It makes his insides flutter each time he hears it and he doesn’t like it. He goes on anyway:

 _The smile on your face lets me know that you need me_  
There's a truth in your eyes saying you'll never leave me  
A touch of your hand says you'll catch me if ever I fall  
Now you say it best when you say nothing at all

Zayn tries not to think and look up at the crowd. He can hear some people singing along which is great. If only they sang a little louder, they could carry his shaky and muttering voice. But he found a little bit of confidence throughout the song, thanks to Frank giving him another nudge with his grin.

 _All day long I can hear people talking out loud_  
but when you hold me near you drown out the crowd  
Old Mister Webster could never define  
what's being said between your heart and mine

The second chorus is louder; he could hear all sorts of voices singing along and it’s helping him a lot. That means it’s good and  _he’s_  good—he's not ruining the song after all. Maybe Gary is—he's really off-key.

There’s no bridge afterwards; just a break with only Frank strumming quietly. It was Zayn’s chance to finally breathe. He should be breathing throughout the song. Out of nervousness he’s not.

When Zayn finally finds the courage to look up at Niall, he's never been so glad that it’s night. His cheeks are burning and the only person who knows that is Niall himself, watching intently with his hand holding his chin and his elbow on his knee. He’s never seen Niall look so excited before; embarrassing himself by singing a love song at a not-so touchy-feely campfire sing-a-long is so worth it. Just the crinkles on the corner of Niall’s eyes alone are enough to calm Zayn down, make him feel all warm like a blooming flower in Spring.

Zayn was left to sing the last chorus without Frank. That’s when all their friends caught on that he was singing this song for Niall, and by then, Zayn's already way past the teases and coos from the crowd that he knows he’ll get a lot of after this is all over. Zayn has sung the chorus throughout the song and hearing it for the fourth time, even much slower for the dramatic effect, it doesn’t change a damn thing about him getting shivers.

 _The smile on your face lets me know that you need me_  
There's a truth in your eyes saying you'll never leave me...  
A touch of your hand says you'll catch me if ever I fall…

Out of nowhere, he can hear Niall too, singing the last line, much quieter and deeper than him. Nevertheless, he can still hear him sweetly singing along:

_Now you say it best when you say nothing at all_

And for the longest time, they didn’t. Maybe that was actually a good thing.

**Author's Note:**

> you're finally done :)
> 
> you know what to do! :-)


End file.
